Serendipitous Life (Currently Editing)
by SelfMadeMonster
Summary: What should you do when you find yourself falling in love with your best friend? If you're Ariadne Morgan then you shove those feelings deep inside and lock them away where they can never see the light of day. But what's life if not a series of risks, and maybe if she tried they could actually work. Telling your best friend you're in love with them shouldn't be that hard, right?
1. Chapter 1

AN: I'm going back and editing the fuck out of every chapter, cause oh my god do they have so many errors. My grammar was god awful and I left out some very important points that would have come back to bite me in the ass. I also decided to add a quote to the beginning of every chapter, cause I felt like it. If I don't state who it came from that means I tried to look it up and couldn't find the author (maybe I'm just a shit researcher, who knows), or it was listed as unknown. So this is the first official edited chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds, although I wish I did. All that is mine would be Ariadne.

* * *

"I never had a chance to be soft.

I was always bloody knuckles and shards of glass.

I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me."

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Introduction**

Serendipity: (n.) finding something good without looking for it.

 **Ariadne POV:**

 _Where am I?_

Confusion hits as I look around the empty field. Nostalgia clawed at the edge of my brain, but I pushed it aside. "Okay, I may have an occasional drink, but this shit is just plain ridiculous," I muttered under my breath. Sure there had been times where I needed to crash at Derek's place cause I was in no shape to drive myself home, but not once had I ever blacked out and woken up in a goddamn field.

"Help!"

My head snapped up in the direction of the sudden scream, briefly wondering who else woulda been out here, before I took off running towards the sound. I may not have had any clue as to what was going on, but I had taken an oath when I joined the FBI, one that required me to help those in need. Although it was strange, I didn't have the time to focus on the fact that I didn't have my gun or badge on me, which really should have been a warning because I never went anywhere without them.

My entire train of thought was blown from my mind when I went tumbling into a trench that came out of nowhere. Groaning, I sat up and put a hand to my now throbbing head. What the ever-loving fuck was that about? I took a chance and looked around, trying to see if there was anything I recognized, and as soon as my eyes locked onto the body lying a couple feet away, I wished I never had.

A cold sweat broke out across my skin and a detached sense of calm rushed over me like a wave. I forced myself to lean against the trench wall, eyes never leaving the empty gaze of my Maria.

I must be having another nightmare.

The urge to vomit rose in the back of my throat but I fought against it. Maria had been dead and gone for over a year now. _She wasn't coming back._

I would've preferred actually blacking out drunk in a field if it meant I could stop reliving the worst day of my life every night in my dreams. But life was a bitch and it liked to constantly remind me of everything I lost.

There's nothing I could do but ride it out, sitting on the ground as I dug my fingernails into the mud beneath me. Doesn't seem to matter how my dreams start, I always ended up here; the one place where my life took its official turn for the worse.

Knowing I deserve this pain, I don't turn my eyes away, even though it kills me inside. So I sat and waited until my eyes flew open to reveal my brother peering down at me.

* * *

 **Derek POV:**

I woke up to a phone ringing and it took me a couple seconds to fully realize where I am.

Right, crashed on my sister's couch once again.

My head decided that it was completely necessary to let me know just how much it disapproved of my choices last night. "Mmmmm," I can hear Ariadne groaning from out here. I let out a small chuckle, her head's probably delivering the same message right about now. Better grab the Advil now before this blows up into a full migraine.

On my way to the kitchen I grabbed my phone to see that we'd been called in. Great, yet another night were I only get around four hours of sleep. Now I really need that Advil. I put my phone down and continued my trek into the kitchen. As I passed by Ari's room and I could see her hand fisting the sheets beneath her as she kept groaning.

I knew my sister well enough to know when she was having a nightmare, but it still didn't make it any easier to see her go through this. I quickly walked into the room and leaned down to shake her awake. Since she had come to live in the same city as me, I had watched her have night terror after night terror, they never seemed to let up. They had gotten better throughout the year, she used to wake up screaming.

It broke my heart that there wasn't anything I could do about them.

"Ari, Ariadne… it's just a dream, it's okay, you're safe. Wake up now," I said quietly while brushing the hair away from her face. Next thing I knew her eyes snapped open and locked onto mine. I smiled down at her, "Hey there princess. Everything's all right now," I kept my voice no louder than a whisper.

We both knew everything wasn't okay, that her problems were slowly eating away at her. But as long as I was around, I would make damn sure she didn't break under the weight.

* * *

 **Ariadne POV:**

The relief I felt when I laid eyes on my brother was overwhelming. It was the kind of relief that washed over your soul and seeped into your bones. Unfortunately that didn't stop the jolt of guilt that ran through me as well.

There are two sides to every coin. On one hand, having Derek here helps against the onslaught of memories and keeps me grounded to reality. But on the other hand it means he had moments when he sees me at my weakest, and the knowledge that it hurts him to see that just kills me inside. Derek is a protector at his very core, but past demons aren't something that can protect me from.

I send him a reassuring smile that I hope conveys my gratitude, "I'm okay." I try to sit up and my head reminds me that despite the lucid nightmare, I am very much hungover. In a feeble attempt to dull the pain I hunch over, trying to bury my face into my knees. "The big guy upstairs must hate me," I mumble as I try to ignore the pounding in my head.

"God ain't got nothing to do with the fact that you're just a lightweight." I know it may not seem possible but I was sure that I could hear the grin in his voice.

Mock glaring at him through narrowed eyes, "If I'm a lightweight I don't even wanna know what you are. You look worse than me."

Derek scoffed, "I'll have you know that this," he brought a hand up to indicate his entire face, "is pure perfection sweetheart. It doesn't get any better than this."

All I could do was laugh. It wasn't like he was wrong. Derek and I may have only been half siblings but we did bear a striking resemblance to each other. Therefore if I called him ugly I was in effect calling myself the same, and that would've been the real lie.

I turned my head to stretch my neck when I saw the offensive red numbers on my alarm clock. Turning, I looked at my brother like he had lost his mind, "What the hell are we doing awake at four in the goddamn morning?"

"We got called in so time to get up, you know the drill." He smirked and patted my leg before walking out of my room. God was it too much to ask that maybe one of these days I actually get a full night of sleep? The hours for this job almost make it not worth it.

Almost.

No matter how bad my nightmares got, Derek never asked what they were about, something I was immensely grateful for. I hated lying to my brother, and typically I only did so when the truth would do far more damage. But as far as I was concerned, what happened to Maria and everything else that had occurred while I was overseas, was my damage alone, my burden to bear.

Derek would tear himself apart trying to put me back together.

I wasn't worth that.

* * *

After showering, getting dressed, and carefully applying makeup that made it so that I didn't look as exhausted as I felt, I was finally ready to go. Looking down at my outfit for the day I couldn't help but smirk.

Unlike almost all of my fellow coworkers, I don't dress professionally. Being an active field agent for the FBI can be a pretty demanding job, which means that sometimes we have to do a lot of moving around. Therefore I'm a pretty casual dresser. How Hotch managed to get around in those monkey suits was beyond me. The thought of being that restricted made my skin crawl.

I was wearing a fitted long-sleeved white lace shirt paired with black skinny jeans, and to top it all off, the cutest pair of pitch-black ankle boots.

Not exactly FBI approved attire.

Every time I chased an unsub in my ankle boots felt like a personal 'fuck you' to whoever said heels were impractical. I made that shit work.

Derek had gone back to his place not long after waking me up so that he could grab his go bag and feed the dog before heading back to pick me up. We always car pooled, figuring it was the sensible thing to do since we lived so close to one another. Not to mention the fact that we alternated between each other's places so often that we practically lived together anyway.

Double checking that I had everything I needed, I grabbed my bag before making my way outside, making sure to lock the door behind me. The team was real anal about that. I didn't have anything of significant value in my apartment and really didn't care if the place got broken into. Needless to say my response had not gone over very well with the rest of them.

I was the youngest out of everyone, clocking in at a whole twenty-one years. I had gotten used to Derek's overprotective nature throughout the years, but the others surprised me. Especially Spencer.

My lips curled into a small smile at the thought of my friend.

I'd been with the BAU for about a year now and it had only taken around a month for me to become somewhat comfortable with the people on the team. It was easier to drift towards Spencer though, seeing as how we were basically in the same age group. He was twenty-three, not much older than me. Although he looks like he's fresh off the playground with that baby face of his.

We had quickly bonded over our mutual annoyance at the loud assholes who complained we were too young to be in the FBI, much less the Behavioral Analysis Unit. A couple of well aimed glares promptly shut them up.

If I was old enough to go overseas and put my life on the line for my country than I sure as shit was old enough to hold a badge and a gun.

Be that as it may, the situation wasn't that simple.

Spencer earned his place in this division by being a certified genius. He's the guy with an eidetic memory, the kid who graduated high school at the age of twelve, someone who had already collected three PhD's and two BA's in his short lifetime. He deserved his spot in the BAU.

I'm the complete opposite of everything he is. Never really had great grades, graduated at the ripe old age of eighteen, and would rather run a marathon than read a book. I'm not anything spectacular.

Well, maybe that's a lie.

I'm a pretty spectacular bullshitter.

Kind of have to be in my situation.

I was born into a broken home in the bad part of Chicago. My father, Hank Morgan, had an affair with my mother, Valeria Costa. Derek's my half-brother who's eleven years my senior. I had very little memories of my father, he didn't come visit all that often and when he would, he never really stayed all that long. My mom tried her best to raise me, but I knew that every time she looked at me all she could see was a reflection of the rejection she faced at my father's hand. I've never asked whether or not she knew he was married when they got together and I wasn't sure it was actually something I wanted to know.

Although he had never really been a staple figure in our home, Hank Morgan's death crashed through it like a hurricane. Mom, for reasons beyond me, couldn't cope and decided to turn to pills. She popped whatever she could get her hands on, and with that came the new boyfriend, the one who could get ahold of whatever she needed for her daily fix.

Joey was an abusive bastard who didn't know the meaning of respect, although he had no problem demanding it from everyone else. When he first put hands on my mother, I didn't understand what was happening, I was far too young to know what domestic violence was. But I sure as hell knew that it wasn't right when he put hands on me.

It didn't happen frequently, but it happened enough that my mother should've known that it was time to walk away.

I guess the high the pills gave her was worth more than me.

Seven years old and I'd been to the emergency room for a broken wrist twice and a mild concussion. Saying you fell down the stairs only worked so many times. Some nights Joey would yell so loud that the neighbors finally gave up and just called the cops, while other nights they would turn up the radio and pretend they didn't know what was going on in the house across the street.

And so the cycle began. The police would turn up at our door, threaten to call CPS unless my mom got her shit together, and would haul Joey off after taking one good look at the bruises that lined my mom's arms and legs.

Mom swore up and down that she'd get sober for me, the threat of having me taken from her would bring back glimpses of the woman I once knew and looked up to.

But of course withdrawals were a bitch and she could never push herself to get passed them. Charges against Joey were always dropped and he would inevitably find his way back to our front porch.

I think the thing that hurt the most, more than Joey's fists or his unwanted advances, were the empty promises my mom loved to make.

 _I'm going to get better baby, I promise._

 _I won't let anything hurt you, I promise._

 _Joey's gone for good this time, I promise._

 _I love you more than anything in the world, I promise._

At eleven years old, I'd had enough. Derek was twenty-two at that point and would always come pick me up to spend weekends with him and my two elder sisters. It was getting harder to lie to them about the bruises or why I never wanted them anywhere near my house or my mother. Derek had seen Joey a few times, only when I wasn't ready to go fast enough.

His big brother radar must have been off the fucking charts, because after taking one look at him Derek promptly told me that he didn't like him. I believe something along the lines of 'he looks like a fucked up rat' were his exact words. But to his knowledge there was nothing wrong with Joey besides the gut feeling he had, so he was forced to leave it alone and we continued on with our day. Derek had followed in our father's footsteps and had become a cop, so his idea of a good sibling outing was teaching me how to shoot a gun.

Which if I thought about it, wasn't really a bad idea considering we lived in the heart of the hood in Chicago.

It was because of those lessons that I was able to finally do what my mother had failed to all those years. I got rid of Joey the drug dealer, the one who thought it was perfectly acceptable to beat on a woman and her kid.

I had been lying in bed, half listening to another one of Joey's long winded rants about his woes from the other room when my mother suddenly cried out in pain. There was always a sharp jolt of agony that ran through me when that sound filled our house.

Sneaking out of my room, I had just peaked around the hallway when I saw something that made me see red.

There was Joey, standing over my cowering mother, as he threw a beer bottle at the wall right above her head. The glass rained down upon her, cutting the side of her cheek.

 _You good for nothing whore! Can't even get me the right kind of beer._

He had screamed at her shaking figure below him, seemingly enjoying watching her flinch every time he took a step towards her.

Now my mom had never been the best mother, but she was still _my mother_.

I was so angry. So goddamn tired of going through this shit, of watching the woman who gave birth to me, become nothing more than some asshole's medicated punching bag.

I'd never understood blind rage episodes before, never understood how someone could get so angry that they were willing to take another person's life. But in that moment I did. I finally understood that all it took was pressing the right buttons and suddenly you're there.

My family happened just happened to be those buttons.

Joey was strong, but he was also stupid. He had left his gun sitting on the kitchen counter, close enough that a couple steps forward was all I needed before the gun was in my hands, the weight of it providing a sense of comfortable familiarity.

The first, and only, warning shot went off near his feet. Joey and my mom were both shocked shitless by the image of me aiming a gun at him, but I didn't care. I wanted him out and I would settle for nothing less. Bastard tried to coax it away from me before realizing just how serious I was.

 _C'mon sweetheart, put the gun down. Little girl like you don't even know what to do with something like that._

 _Are you willing to take that chance?_

 _Kid-_

 _Get the fuck away from my mom and out of my house before the next bullet I unload ends up lodged between your eyes._

My mom wasn't strong enough to cut ties with Joey.

So I did it for her.

Joey never did come back once he slinked off our porch that night. Now it may have been because he believed me, or maybe he just figured my mom wasn't worth all the trouble. I don't know and I don't care.

But even though he left, the damage he caused never faded. I'd never forget the bruises he painted across my skin, or the engraved scars he'd left on my mother. I'd never be able to ignore the fact that she willingly let him into our lives over and over again despite the constant abuse.

And I'd never forgive her for letting herself overdose on our bathroom floor not even a week later.

I guess the stress of losing her own personal drug dealer proved to be too much for her. But I had called an ambulance and she had gotten to ride out the withdrawal process under the very watchful eyes of multiple doctors. I had called Derek to tell him that Mom was gonna let me spend a week with him, I conveniently left out the part where she would be spending that time detoxing in the hospital. Another one of the many lies I was forced to tell my brother.

There was no doubt in my mind that Derek, or even Fran herself, would have fought my mom for custody if they knew what had really happened under our roof. And although I had known that a healthy home environment would have been the best thing for me, and that Derek's mom would have given me everything I needed, there was still that little girl inside me that was terrified at being taken away from her mom.

So I stayed, because I could never abandon her the way my dad did with me.

Life then did what life does best; it kept moving. The next year was easier for me, Mom actually managed to stay sober after her hospital visit, Derek continued to take me for the weekends, and I no longer had to worry about getting thrown around in my own home.

I pretty much kept to myself in school. I was the angry girl who had daddy issues, so making friends was a little low on my to-do list. But that changed in seventh grade, in spite of my great hesitance.

Maria Santis was damn near the sassiest twelve year old that I had ever met. Her adoptive parents had adopted her a couple years back and had just made the move from Italy. She had been stopped in the middle of the hallway at school while looking down at her schedule, mumbling some Italian curse under her breath. I didn't typically engage people, but I also wasn't rude. So naturally I stopped to make sure that she could find her next class okay.

It might have gone better if the first thing I said to her wasn't also in Italian.

My mother was a beautiful woman who had migrated from Italy as soon as she hit eighteen, which made me a glorious half breed. Before Dad died and Joey had come into the picture, our house was bilingually rich. Mom never wanted me to forget our heritage, so Italian came to me like second nature.

As soon as she realized we could speak the same language, that was it. Maria never left me alone after that. I on the other hand always did my best to rebuff her efforts. It wasn't that I didn't want friends, it was more like my life was so fucked up that I figured as soon as someone realized just how bad it was, they'd leave me too.

Turns out she was just as damaged as me. Her life before her adopted parents came into it, mirrored mine in certain aspects and try as I might, I couldn't stop her from getting under my skin.

Becoming friends with Maria was one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life. It wasn't long until we became absolutely inseparable. Turns out that shared trauma is a hell of a thing to bond over. Through the years she became a sister to me, my other half so to speak.

She also got along great with Derek, often joining us for our weekend sibling time. It meant the world to me that not only did she accept me, scars and all, but she also accepted the most important person in my life.

Of course when you are that close to someone, you develop a dependency on them. It was us against the world.

So when I realized during our senior year what I was going to do with my life, it kind of complicated things between us. I didn't have any concrete future plans, wasn't good at school so college was out, and the idea of sitting at some desk for the rest of my life made my skin crawl.

I wanted my life to be worth something, to actually have a purpose. So I waited till the day of graduation to tell her that I had enlisted in the army.

Maria had dreams, she was gonna do something with art at the local college. I didn't have the heart to tell her she'd have to follow those dreams without me, until I literally ran out of time. It happened to be three weeks before I'd have to leave for basic when I finally got around to it.

As expected, it didn't go very well at all. She cried and yelled at me for about a good half hour once I finally fessed up.

 _What exactly was your plan Ari? To just leave me the way my mom left me? Do exactly what your dad did to you? What the hell were you thinking?_

So yeah, that was a fun conversation to have.

Once she had calmed down enough to hear me out all I could do was apologize for being such a coward about telling her, and assure her that it was never my intention to abandon her in any way. Perhaps I was trying to prove to myself that I wasn't worthless, or maybe I just wanted a way to get out of the town where everything innocent about me had gone up in flames.

It took her a couple days but finally Mari came around and forgave me. Which honestly should have been a warning sign because I figured I'd be in the doghouse for at least another week and a half. What I didn't know was that my choice became the spark of my worst nightmare.

Because I found Maria waiting for me once I got to basic.

The little shit had decided to follow me.

The last thing I wanted was to drag Maria down the dark road that was my future, but that's not how she saw it. She was willing to throw everything away for me, all those big plans and dreams went down the drain the moment she decided to enlist. However I couldn't deny that having her there made me less reckless. I'd have to take care of myself and make sure I survived so that I could keep her alive. A part of me thought that she might have known the same thing.

About six months into training every one of us all got called in for questioning. It was kind of like an interview, except we weren't told what it was for. It was a little nerve wracking, not knowing the exact reasoning behind all the questions, or the significance behind them. We were told that there were no wrong answers, that they were simply conducting a new study.

Maybe if I had known they were testing us I would have answered differently.

 _Placing them in order from greatest importance to least, explain which order you would place duty, family, and honor in. Please be specific as to the reasoning behind your choice._

 _While all three are undeniably important, I would have to say family, duty, then honor. To me sir, family is the most important thing there is. As far as I'm concerned our first duty will always be to them, to support them and keep them safe from harm. And sometimes there is no honor in how we accomplish that._

Whatever I said had impressed them enough that instead of releasing me back to the bunks, I was placed in a room with Maria and three other women. After a few minutes of speaking and introductions, it became clear that none of us knew what we had been pulled aside for. We didn't have to wait long before our Lieutenant Colonel Frank Willis and Major Jason Cole entered the room and explained that the five of us had been selected to form a new special force unit.

We had to sign a vast array of non-disclosure statements before they even told us what we would be training for. Although all of us were wary once they finished explaining, we were told that the benefit to our country would far outweigh the consequences. So we agreed and trained hard for another three months before I was told I was going to be named Captain and we were placed in the field.

First Lieutenants Tara Woods, Lilly Porter, and Darcie Wilson made up the rest of Maria and I's team. And the five of us were great. We spent so much time together that we all developed a bond, we became our own little rag-tag family. Despite the things we had to do, we were happy.

But good things never last forever, especially not in my life, and a year and a half later it all went to shit. Everything came to a head the day I was forced to cradle Maria's lifeless body in my arms. I had been correct when I said that sometimes there was no honor in how we chose to protect our family. What I didn't know back then was that it could be found within the revenge we took in their name.

My actions weren't necessarily approved of, but Lieutenant Colonel Willis understood why I took them and I was given an honorable discharge in spite of them.

I went home being the sole survivor out of my team of five.

But being home was rough. Maria was gone, my relationship with my mother was more strained than ever, and Derek had left to go work for the FBI while I was overseas. I was only twenty years old yet utterly lost. I would wake up screaming on the good nights and I would punch holes into the walls until my fists were covered in blood on the bad ones.

Derek called every day and Sarah and Desiree would come by and try to get me out of the house whenever they could. I loved my sisters, but I wasn't ready to get better, I didn't want to heal if Maria couldn't do it with me. I guess my sisters had been updating Derek on my worsening condition because he took some time off work to come and pull my head from my ass.

 _If you think for one second that Maria would want you to torture yourself over what happened, then clearly you didn't know her at all._

After a very long talk, which included a lot of yelling, Derek somehow managed to convince me to come back to Virginia with him. He knew I wasn't good alone, and I knew that he was the only one I would actually make an effort to live for.

It was strange at first, trying to become one with society again, so I pushed all I had into training. That was the one thing that came easily to me. Shooting a gun had become second nature. Of course my previous training and field experience gave me somewhat of an advantage over my fellow trainees, but it was still nice to distract myself from the horrors I had witnessed by getting lost in the rhythm of something familiar. It also helped that my big brother was always within arms reach if I needed him.

After a couple months, I ended up being pulled into a private meeting with the director.

 _All your trainers have said you've been made the most progress out of anyone in your class. Our next step was making contact with your old Lieutenant Colonel to get a better understanding of the nature of your service. I doubt you'll be too surprised to know he informed us that such information was highly classified. However he was able to tell us enough about your character to conclude that there is nothing you would not do for those under your care._

Apparently it didn't matter which supervisor he placed with Derek's team, they were never trusted with any vital information. It had gotten to the point where the director himself was concerned over the future of the BAU. Some of the greatest minds could be found on that team and they just so happened to be extremely reckless on multiple occasions. Running low on options, he presented me with an opportunity I couldn't refuse.

I could work side by side with my brother and his team, providing them with the protection they denied themselves. The catch was that I couldn't tell anyone that I was to report on their actions. Apparently they also didn't like playing by the book, so I was to act as a glorified bodyguard.

The idea of being able to protect Derek, the one person I couldn't survive losing, out in the field appealed to my overprotectiveness. Sure I couldn't tell him the truth about why I would be working with him, but I'd had plenty of experience lying to him throughout my life.

The only minor problem was that I didn't want to be a profiler.

Despite my personal preference, I accepted the offer. Perhaps I was trying to prove that my life could still mean something. I had stopped living for myself a long time ago, I would gladly walk into hell if it kept Derek alive and well.

My brother was of course ecstatic that I had chosen to follow in his footsteps, and I simply lacked the ability to insinuate anything else. He had been all too eager to introduce me to everyone as their new junior profiler. I tried to take it in stride but I couldn't help but compare them to my old team, no matter how much it broke my heart to do so.

I could see the crazy way Darcie could always find the positive in any situation buried in the eccentric colors that Penelope Garcia donned.

Tara would have appreciated Aaron Hotchner's professional demeanor and firm handshake. And it was easy to tell that Jason Gideon took on the role of the kind uncle you see over the holidays, something Tara would have easily gotten behind seeing as how she had three kids of her own and liked to smother the rest of us with her motherly attitude.

The way Lilly's pale blonde hair seemed to sparkle if the sun hit it just right, would have outshone Jennifer Jareau's golden locks any day.

The innocence in Maria's eyes was reflected in the splash of pink that painted Spencer Reid's cheeks. The shy up tilt of his lips threatened to send me back in time to the days when a very similar smile greeted me in the halls of a crowded middle school.

I despised the small voice in the back of my mind that accused me of replacing my old team with these people. Those four women would always hold a special place in my heart, one that others could never hope to breach. I didn't want to become attached to any more people, knowing all too well that life had the ability to steal them away without a moment's notice, but unfortunately for me that's not what happened.

I was scared every damn day, absolutely terrified that history would repeat itself. I'm not the kind of person who gets a happy ending, I don't deserve it.

After everything I've done I can safely say that if hell is a real place, I'm well on my way.

I often wondered if any truth could be found in me, or if my body was nothing more than a web of lies that I convinced myself were necessary.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: This chapter has been successfully edited! Any and all translations will always be located at the end of the chapter.

* * *

"It didn't matter that she fell apart,

it was how she put herself back together."

-Atticus

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Extreme Aggressor**

 **Ariadne POV:**

I didn't have to wait long before Derek pulled up, something I was immensely grateful for. It was fucking cold as shit out here. I quickly ran to the passenger's side and got in, relishing the hot air that blew out of the vents. "So what's the plan for this one?" I asked turning to look at my amused brother.

"Well Hotch called, turns out they've decided it's time for Gideon to come back." Derek pulled away from my apartment and briefly glanced at me, "We're gonna meet Hotch at the college before we head to the tarmac."

I wasn't surprised, Gideon may have been placed on leave but he was far too valuable for the FBI to give him up entirely. It was really just a matter of when he was coming back and not if. To be honest I was a bit surprised that he had been absent for as long as he had.

I mean I get it, given the circumstances of the situation it was natural for anyone to feel a bit responsible. The problem was that Gideon had always been one to shoulder guilt, whether it was his or someone else's, like it was some kind of contest.

I knew that it would fall to me to ensure that he would be able to continue doing his job properly. The rest of the team would say he was fine, but as much as I liked Gideon, I wouldn't lie about his mental state. If he had another break down in the field he could compromise the safety of everyone else.

That was a chance I wasn't willing to take.

It wasn't too long of a drive to get to the college, and I spent most of the time thinking about how the team dynamic was going to work with Gideon back, as well as trying to tune out the sound of Derek's obnoxious humming along to the radio.

I'm not really much of a morning person, preferring to spend the time under my covers trying to make up for the lack of sleep I get throughout the night, so Derek's level of energy at this time simply astounded me. Over the past year it became abundantly clear that the entire team had become accustomed to early mornings, I was the only one who hadn't gotten on that train.

The way I see it; if the sun hasn't bothered to get its ass up in the sky, then why the fuck would I leave the comforts of my warm bed?

Hotch was already in the parking lot when we arrived, and stepped out of his car dressed to the nines when we pulled in next to him. Bracing myself for the sub arctic temperatures that awaited me, I slid out of the car, and almost instantly regretted it the second the cold wind whipped across my face.

I tried to use Derek's body as a shield against the cold. It was only fair that I exercise my younger sibling rights and use his tall stature to my advantage. Hotch on the other hand apparently didn't have any sensors in his entire body, because not once did his expression change once the freezing air around us hit him. "Sup boss man, what do we have this time?" I was rubbing my hands up and down my arms, trying to create a bit of friction.

Boss man was my unique nickname for Hotch. Sure he pretended not to be too fond of it, but I had seen the upturn of his lips on occasion, so he couldn't hate it all too much. I had a very specific name for each member in my contacts, same thing I had done with my old team.

The importance of anonymity was drilled into us at the start of training. If we were not in a secure location we didn't refer to each other by our given names, the consequences of anyone overhearing them was far too high. Maybe that helped to make what we did a little easier.

Everything we were, everything we did, fell onto the shoulders of a different identity.

Then again maybe that was nothing more than the guilt talking.

Derek was listed under big brother, that was the one thing I couldn't bring myself to change. That's who he was, who he would always be, there was no other possible thing I could call him. He was my big brother, my safe house, my goddamn hero.

But still I couldn't silence the nagging voice that whispered all the ways they could be hurt if someone used my phone for information. So I switched it up, ensuring that I was the only one who could decipher it.

"I'll explain once we have everyone." And with that, Hotch turned and made his way to the entrance of the college, knowing we'd fall in step behind him. He was a pretty big fan of short answers, and he was intimidating enough to get away with it.

Eager to get out of this disgusting weather, the two of us made long strides to get into the warmer building. I guess whatever classroom Gideon had been using was close by because after just a few minutes of walking I could hear his voice from behind one of the doors.

Without knocking, Hotch walked right on into the room, "You're gonna be with us in Seattle asap." I had to hand it to him, he sure knew how to make an entrance.

I saw Spencer hanging back to my left and sidled up to him, "What's up buttercup?" I grinned up at him through my stage whisper and couldn't help the flutter in my heart when a smile graced his features.

So I may have a small crush on the man.

Sue me.

I wasn't like I looked into his eyes the first moment we met and fell in love or anything. It crept up on me slowly. At first he was nothing more than a colleague who I thought was a touch out of place in the BAU. He seemed far too innocent to surround himself with this level of violence all the time. But he quickly proved me wrong, his actions revealing a maturity few our age were capable of.

The more I treated him like a qualified teammate, the more he opened up. We became friends because of shared experience, his past contained more demons than I thought.

I guess one day, a very normal day I might add, I was just sitting around and listening to him explain the works of one of his favorite authors when it hit me. It was the little things about him that got to me, which is why it took so long for me to realize I was slowly falling for him.

The way his eyes would light up when he got to share some obscure fact with everyone. If you looked real closely you could see golden rays encase those brown irises the more excited he became.

How he would fidget with his hands whenever he was remotely uncomfortable, twisting his digits into some sort of pattern that only he could see.

The strands of his unruly hair often falling down just close enough to brush up against the tips of his eyelashes whenever he moved too quickly.

When he was so happy that he couldn't help but laugh, his lopsided grin would make his right dimple just a tad deeper than the left.

That's how I knew I was falling for him.

Because I noticed the little things. I learned all about the things that seemed so insignificant in nature that they were often easily overlooked. Things I had only ever bothered to know about Maria and Derek.

And I hated it. I hated how my heart could open up and let someone else in when it knew full well how deep the pain of loss could run. But once you notice those little things, you can't just forget about them, that's not how it works.

If it was then I would have long forgotten the way Lilly could bandage the worst of our wounds, broken bones and gunshot wounds galore, but would freak out whenever she got the smallest of paper cuts. I wouldn't remember how proudly Tara bore her stretch marks, satisfied that her body had the ability to conform in order to fit the needs of her growing children. The sound of Darcie's voice, how it would get deeper and raspier the more passionate she got, would have faded from my memory. And I was forever haunted by the scar at the base of Maria's jaw, how she would lightly touch it to remind herself of how far she had come since childhood.

How I desperately wished my heart could forget all those things.

"It's good to see you too Ari." Spencer spared me one last soft look before he turned to listen in on the conversation taking place in front of us. I let my gaze linger on him for a moment, once again wanting to bash myself over the head for the timing of my inconvenient feelings.

"For heaven's sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself."

I was able to catch the ladder half of Gideon reading off the unsub's words from the paper Hotch gave him. I couldn't help but roll my eyes though. I hated when there was some bullshit excuse about their lack of control, like somehow the rest of us were supposed to understand and feel some sort of pity for them.

Taking a life was a conscious decision, something well within our power. The excuse of not being able to control yourself is nothing more than a cop out. Each time I pulled the trigger, I knew exactly what I was about to do.

Hotch went on to explain the details to us; that the unsub didn't keep women for more than seven days, so unfortunately we only had thirty-six hours left to find our victim. It wasn't a lot of time, but I had seen this team work with less and still pull it off, so I was still pretty confident.

Despite my optimism, Derek wasn't quite as trusting of Gideon as I was. "Looks like they want you back in the saddle, you ready?" I knew that although Derek held a great amount of respect for our team leader, seeing him go through a mental breakdown had diminished a large portion of the faith he had in his abilities.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't slightly concerned he might go off the rails once more. But then again we'd never know if he was better if we never gave him the chance to prove himself. Plus it didn't hurt that Gideon had never been one to judge my performance due to my young age.

"You sure they want me?" Perhaps Derek and I weren't as subtle with our reservations as we thought, because Gideon's face was lined with apprehension. It wasn't a look I was familiar with when it came to our unit chief.

Hotch was quick to assuage his fears, "The order came from the director." That may have been true, but Hotch forgot to mention the part where Gideon was to be placed under watch, with a report attached to all his cases to ensure he wasn't going to have another breakdown.

But the details were neither here nor there.

Despite what he had gone through, all the things he had seen over the years, that spark of adventure still came alive in his eyes, "Then we better get started." I never understood how he could still willingly be here after the horrors he had witnessed. After just a year I was so over this whole serial killer thing. I didn't want to see this shit for the rest of my life.

The only reason I was still here was because of Derek.

Spencer looked equally as excited that Gideon was coming back, and for good reason. He was a father figure to Spencer, which is why he could be found here in this college instead of in the bullpen with the rest of us.

It had only been a couple months ago that Spencer confided in me about his home life. How his mother became too sick for him to deal with and how he had to make the hard decision to place her in a care facility. I had been honored he trusted me enough with something so personal, but then he told me about his father and that was the moment I realized just how much trust he put in me.

It was pretty common knowledge that my father was a subject to avoid. Derek and I had enough hushed arguments about the man that by now his name was never brought up in conversation.

My brother and I would never come to an agreement about Hank Morgan. He was Derek's idol, the person he aspired to be. My siblings got him at his best, and all I got were empty promises and a nice view of his back.

Derek would never understand the echoing loneliness that rattled against my bones every time father's day rolled around and I had no one to give a card to. Or how my eyes would burn with unshed tears when I was greeted with the dial tone to a number that never connected when I called.

Hank Morgan had abandoned me, cast me aside because I was nothing more than a reminder of his greatest mistake. So when Spencer told me that his father had walked out on him and his mother, I couldn't help but feel all the more connected to him.

It was hard to describe abandonment, especially when it comes from a parent. It's such a deep-rooted pain and not many can understand it. There's a hole in you, and nothing you do ever fills it.

There are times when I think maybe I just wasn't meant to have a father. And maybe my father wasn't meant to have a fourth child.

I have to physically shove those thoughts back into a box before I begin to get lost in those emotions once again. I deal with enough demons at night, I shouldn't have to face them in the light of day.

The rest of us stepped outside the room while Gideon gathered his things, assuming he had his go bag here with him. Even though I had pushed the toxic thoughts from my head, the feelings they dredged up sill lingered. My father was my weakest point, without a doubt it was the one thing that could make me downright volatile at the drop of a hat.

I hated how angry a dead man could still make me.

Trying to play it off as though I were simply cold, I snuggled up to Derek, latching my arms around his waist and laying my head against his heart. It wasn't uncommon for me to be affectionate with my brother, the others had come to understand this about me. I may have been hardened by the things I did in my service, but I couldn't stop that age old need to gather comfort from my big brother when something was wrong.

Typically Derek didn't think much about me becoming a human monkey around him, but I suppose that due to my earlier nightmare he was a little more perceptive than normal. He wrapped his arm around my back and pulled me in closer, ignoring the brief looks from both Hotch and Spencer, before he leaned down to plant a kiss on my forehead.

This is typically the reason siblings aren't allowed to work together. People think that the emotional attachment to one another will hinder their work, allowing them to become vulnerable. Clearly someone without siblings created that rule. Because contrary to what they think, it doesn't make us weak, it gives us something to fight for.

"You don't have to tell me what's going on, but I'll always be here for you sweetheart. Don't ever forget that." His voice was quiet, ensuring that only the two of us could hear and I was grateful for it. I had the strong desire to cry, because certainly I didn't deserve my brother, didn't deserve the endless love and patience he gave me.

I tightened my grip on his shirt, feeling my nails dig into the material. This is who I was protecting, who I'd give up everything for without a second thought.

I could light this goddamn world on fire, but I would never let a flame touch him or my sisters.

* * *

When we finally arrive at the tarmac everyone gets out and begins to make their way towards the jet. I notice that Gideon is pretty far ahead of us all, and for that I don't blame him one bit. The weather hadn't let up in the slightest so it was still a modern day ice age out here. Jogging to reach Gideon had an upside and a downside. On one hand I was getting to the warm jet faster, but I was also getting slapped with the cold a lot faster as well. But there was no way in seven hells that I was going to stay out in the cold any longer than I absolutely had to.

The blast of hot air that enveloped me as I stepped on the jet felt a little like what I'm sure heaven must be like. I tried to relish the feeling when the back of my calves were nipped with the cold. Turning, I noticed that Spencer was waiting for Hotch along the stairs.

Oh no, this would not do at all. Leaning my head past his, I yelled out, "Aye yo Hotch! It's freezing, hurry it up!"

Not only is it early as fuck, but Santa came early and brought his dumbass Northern weather with him. I was hoping to catch a few more hours of sleep on the ride, and was so not in the mood for anyone to get in the way of that.

I plopped myself into one of the seats on the plane towards the back where it was the warmest. These days it seemed like the only time I could find some real sleep was when I was on this jet. Here I didn't have to constantly watch the team, because really how much trouble could they get into while up in the air? The only downside was that this was typically when they debriefed. So occasionally I would have to pretend that I was paying attention, since I was supposed to be a junior profiler and all that.

I think Derek might have told them about my sleeping patterns because whenever I did fall asleep, not one of them ever tried to wake me up or scold me for sleeping in the first place. The only reason I could think as to why they didn't was that Derek had told them that I really don't get to sleep anytime else.

It also wouldn't surprise me if one of them had tried only to have Derek block their path. I may have been overprotective of my brother, but I almost had nothing on the levels he could reach when it came down to Sarah, Desiree, or I.

Also, not to brag or anything, but I'm pretty fucking adorable. I've seen some of the pictures that my siblings have snuck while I was sleeping, and I have to say; I wouldn't wake me up either.

One of the things I have learned about my team, much to my chagrin, was that often times they are so focused on finding the unsub and saving the next victim that their own safety was pushed to the backburner.

It was shit like that which made the director even consider hiring me in the first place. I was put in charge of protecting a group of people who would willingly put themselves in front of a bullet for a stranger.

I wasn't complaining that they were good people or anything, I'm just pissed that they don't understand the value of their own lives. If they get killed who else is gonna find the scum of the earth?

Once the jet took off everyone decided to gather around where I was sitting in order to debrief, Spencer taking the seat beside me. Apparently it was too much to ask that they let me have a peaceful rest, because without further ado Spencer went straight into the background of the previous murders. "His first victim was twenty-six year old Melissa Kirsh. Stab wounds, strangulation-"

I did a double take while Derek chose to interrupt, "Wait, wait. Back up, back up. He stabbed her… and then strangled her to finish her off?" A valid question in my opinion. I mean wouldn't that just be more effort for the unsub? You'd think that they would pick one way and be consistent with it. That's the whole point of an M.O.

"Other way around," Gideon is the one who answers. "Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?"

Hold up, now I'm more confused. The unsub strangled her to death, and then stabbed her? What the hell was the purpose of that? She was already dead after being strangled.

I stop myself from asking the question, because if I was being honest with myself, I really didn't want to know.

I could feel my eyelids grow heavy as the conversation continues around me. I couldn't stop my head from falling against Spencer's shoulder as sleep took hold of me. The last thing I hear before I fade out was entirely unpleasant.

"He's learning, perfecting his scenario. Becoming a better killer."

* * *

I was able to sleep peacefully throughout the rest of the flight, apparently neither Spencer or I moved because once I woke up to his nudging, I realized we were in the exact spot we had been when I drifted off.

I was a weird sleeper. At times I could wake up at the slightest of noises, I could thank the trauma for that one, and other times it could take Derek five minutes to try and wake me from a nightmare. I still remember the hard days when Major Cole would burst into the bunks at any given hour and make us run laps to ensure that we could wake up alert and focused at all times.

I didn't like it then and I don't like it now.

"Ari, we're here. It's time to get to work." He kept his voice quiet, I figure he thinks I'm still in the process of waking up, but as soon as he started to move, I was up.

I stood and smiled down at him, "Thank for being my pillow Spence."

I may have had a giant crush on the guy, but that wouldn't stop me from being a good friend to him. Spencer deserved to have a true friend, not just someone who was close to him in hopes of it going anywhere, and that's what I was determined to be.

I'd rather be a true friend than not be in his life at all.

"What are best friends for?" He grins before standing as well, "C'mon we gotta go." I follow him and the rest of the team off the jet and into the car that was waiting on the tarmac for us. On the drive to the local FBI station I thought about how I was going to divide my time watching each member. It was hard to do when they liked splitting up so damn much. I'd gotten a little leeway with Gideon being gone, but now that he's back it just means there's one more person I have to keep my eye on.

Typically I end up going with the one who has the least amount of backup, which is sometimes hard for me if it's not Derek. But I know that my job is to technically watch out for all of them and if I don't do that properly, then I'm no longer needed.

Things do get a little dicey when I have to come up with an excuse as to why I want to go with certain members, often times I chalk it up to the fact that I could learn a certain thing in the moment with different members. Hotch took the longest to convince that I might be good partner for him. And it wasn't until he saw with his own two eyes that I could actually hold my own, that he even considered letting me call myself his backup.

Soon enough we pull up to the FBI field office in Seattle. We all get out of the cars and head inside where we have to go through baggage check to enter. Occasionally it'll take a while, which can be annoying, but I know that it's for the safety of not only myself but also for every other agent in the building, including my team.

I was taking the lead in the back when Derek decided he had enough of silently observing Gideon, and instead wanted to share his findings. "He never stands with his back to a window. When I was between him and a doorway, he asked me to move."

I couldn't exactly fault him for those attributes, those were pretty basic symptoms for people who had gone through some form of trauma. It wasn't uncommon for me to display my own symptoms, although I tried my best to keep them discreet.

If I drew too much attention to them then Derek might just realize that I've had them since before I enlisted. The last thing I needed was him realizing what went on in that house while Joey was around. I didn't need anyone knowing just how damaged I am. It's bad enough that my mother still remembers and tries to talk about it whenever I call or visit.

"That's hyper vigilance. It's not uncommon in post-traumatic stress disorder."

Another reason I don't want anyone knowing. Their profilers, it's their job to look into things as deep as they go. I don't need Spencer or anyone else looking at me like I'm a puzzle they need to solve.

"Just how much disorder are we talking about?" Derek scoffs and fires back. Almost as if he's been hit over the head, he turns to look at me with an apology written in his eyes. I know he wasn't talking about me and even if he was, there was nothing for forgive. I'm a big girl, I can handle the knowledge that I'm not normal, Derek shouldn't feel bad because he thinks he's reminding me of that.

I reach forward and squeeze his hand, assuring him that all is well.

His look of contrite will always haunt me. He tries his best to shoulder my pain, even going as far as trying to take the blame for how I feel about our father, which isn't his fault in the slightest. He's a good person my brother. Far too good for this world.

I plaster a bright smile to my lips, one that grips my throat in a hollow fist, and continue to walk with my head held high.

The past could kiss my ass.

* * *

Once we entered the room where we would be setting up, it wasn't hard to miss the complete disorganization that could make a lesser man weep. I mean really, it was like an overcrowded pig pen. While I stood marveling at how they were able to get any work done in these conditions, Hotch remained unfazed, "This is Special Agent Gideon. Special Agent Morgan, our expert on obsessional crimes. Special Agent Reid…"

At that Gideon interjected, "Doctor Reid." I had to give it to him, Spencer had worked way too hard not to be recognized by his official title.

Instead of letting it throw him off, Hotch simply corrected himself and carried on. "Dr. Reid, our expert on, well, everything. This is the other Special Agent Morgan, our junior profiler. And after two years busting my butt in this office, I hope you remember me." That gathered a laugh from the other agents.

We all spread out to the different stations that had been set up. Gideon made his way over to the maps while Spencer chose to migrate towards a board littered with paperwork. Once again I chose to stick by Derek's side and tried to look busy while he took in information. I really only needed to know where the team was at all times, but sometimes the guys would give me lessons about things like geological profiling, which wasn't all that bad. I definitely knew how to read a map.

Derek, Spencer, and Hotch all started debating about the kind of car the unsub was driving, something about how Jeeps were masculine. I had to roll my eyes, I don't think I'll ever understand how the male species works.

Gideon wandered over sometimes during the discussion and put his two cents in, "And we all know how an unsub feels about asserting his masculinity."

Cue another eye roll.

I chose to lean up against the edge of one of the tables while Hotch went on to ask a plethora of questions. I honestly wasn't feeling up to the whole 'let's pretend I know what the fuck I'm doing' game at the moment. This wasn't my forte at all.

Put a gun in my hands and give me a target and I'm your girl. But if you hand me a bunch of crime scene photographs and tell me to predict the unsub's next move, I won't be able to do it.

However I can hear the irritation that lines my brother's voice when he speaks to Gideon. "An accurate profile by four today?"

Derek hated being rushed, knowing it would make them more susceptible to making mistakes.

I suppose that Gideon was one hundred percent ready to step back into his shoes because he was as confident as ever. "That's not a problem," he says as he heads over to the board I was hanging around.

"Ariadne, where do you think we should start?" Hotch turned to look at me. I fucking hated when they did this, when that junior profiling seemed to kick in and they asked me a buttload of questions to make sure I was learning shit.

I never let the brief panic show on my face though. The last thing I wanted them to think was that I couldn't handle this, too many questions could come up if that was the case.

I turned to look at the board that Gideon had spent so much time studying. Thank god I was perceptive. I pointed to the picture he had spent the longest looking at, "The site of the last murder."

I must have gotten something right because Hotch nodded at me, a bigger fucking deal than most people thought, and both Derek and Spencer looked at me encouragingly.

I hid my clenched teeth behind a closed mouth smile and wondered if they'd be as proud of me when they realized I had successfully been lying to their faces for a year.

Would Derek's eyes still shine bright when he discovered just how much I had hidden from him?

* * *

Derek and Gideon went to the recent crime scene with one of the local officers, while I made my way with Spencer and Hotch. In no way was I saying that Spencer was the weakest link between us, but he wasn't licensed to carry. And that put a serious damper on where he could and couldn't go.

So unless he had been elected to stay back at the temporary base and work from there, I could usually be found at his and Derek's side. I doubt Hotch or Gideon understood the fear that would shoot through me whenever they tried to send the two of them alone.

Spencer was great and all, but if they got caught in a shootout, he would be no help. And I wasn't about to place my brother in that kind of situation.

Hotch, Spencer and I were headed to our missing person, Heather's, house. As soon as we walked in the door, I noticed a dog. And because I have almost no impulse control, I immediately got down to her level and started to pet her. Dogs in my opinion, besides cats, are the most adorable things on the planet. There is something so pure and good about them that just warms my chest.

Although from the look on Spencer's face he doesn't seem to share the same sentiment. The dog started barking at him and in turn he clutched his things closer to his chest like a frightened damsel in distress. I just continue to pet and shush the dog, telling her that everything was just fine.

"Sandy, no, no, no. I'm so sorry." There was a redheaded man that spoke as he moved towards us.

"No, it's okay. It's what we call the Reid effect. It uh, happens with children too."

So Hotch does have a sense of humor. Who would have thought?

He goes on to introduce the rest of us, seeing as how we had just walked into the place, and as expected the mention of the fact that Spencer is a doctor causes the man to tilt his head and search Spencer's face. "You look too young to have gone to medical school."

I'm no longer surprised by the confusion. Before I really got to know Spencer and how his mind worked, I had been lost as hell as to how he was a couple years older than me and yet still managed to become a doctor.

"They're Ph.D.'s. three of them," Spencer sheepishly explains.

As if on cue the man's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Are you a genius or something?"

"I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified. But I do have an IQ of one eighty-seven, an eidetic memory, and can read twenty thousand words per minute." The response is rushed and he stumbles over a few words, but I'm proud of him none the less. I know it's not always easy for him, talking to people, due to difficult it is for him to pick up on social cues.

There is a brief lapse of silence where it seemed like no one quite knew what to say. But I was an unapologetically loud person, so I just went for it, "So yes, he is certainly classified as a genius."

I was awarded with a side grin from the genius himself. I felt like such a fucking middle schooler by the way I felt my cheeks heat up in response to his attention. I'd never been one to really need or want someone's attention who wasn't my family, I thought that meant I had fortunately skipped the girly preteen stage, but here it was ready to bite me in the ass.

I wandered over to the window while Hotch and Spencer continued asking the man about Heather. Since I was now successfully out of their sight, I was able to pull out my phone in order to check the GPS I had installed on Derek's phone.

When the director said I could do anything I deemed necessary to watch over them, he wasn't kidding. I only had to voice my concerns about needing to find a way to keep track of the ones I wasn't currently with once before he was giving me a handful of small chips. Once activated, I would receive a signal through a program on my phone that I could track from anywhere in the world.

The director and I ran off of a trust system. For instance he didn't try to pry into the classified details of my service, not that he could have, and I didn't ask how or where the tracking chips came from. It was a mutually beneficial system for the two of us.

It really shockingly easy to attach that little chip in the backs of their batteries in their phones. I snagged Derek's while he was over at my house and I got the rest of them while they were busy with their physical evals.

Six dots for six different people. Some may view it as a breach of privacy, but I only used it to ensure that they would never be lost. It had definitely come in handy a few times whenever one of them decided to go off on their own and be a hero.

There was always a rush of relief whenever I saw that Derek's dot was in the same place he said he'd be. He didn't often go somewhere without telling me, but anything could happen and sometimes things on this job moved way too fast.

My attention was pulled from my phone when Hotch's voice reached me. "Ariadne we got something. Tell Gideon and Morgan to meet us back at the base." I nod to let him know I heard him before shooting Derek a text to let him know we found something and would be seeing him soon.

* * *

"Okay, then how about the fact that on one hand, we have paranoid psychosis, but the autopsy protocol says what?"

You would have to be deaf to miss the agitation in Derek's voice as he walked around repeatedly throwing a baseball into the air. The rest of us weren't doing much better either. I mean Spencer was spinning around in his chair and I was trying to balance a pencil between my upper lip and nose.

It was fair to say that I was bored out of my goddamn mind.

"Adhesive residue shows he put layer after layer of duct tape over his victims' eyes."

Spencer's words didn't paint a pretty picture and I was really wasn't in the mood to imagine what that looked like.

"He knows he wants to kill them, but he still covers their eyes like a blindfold. He doesn't want them looking at him apparently. But then he takes the body and dumps it right out in the open, murder weapon nearby." Derek's voice steadily rose with unchecked aggression the more he spoke.

That little box of memories I shoved to the corners of my mind kept trying to open at the word 'blindfold', and I would've rather stabbed myself through the hand with this pencil than open up that shit show.

Knowing that I was expected to chime in, I did my best to throw something out there. "Maybe he's deformed in some way, doesn't want his victims to see him. He could be more self-conscious than paranoid."

Spencer nods along, "Yeah, because it's really not the M.O. of a paranoid convinced he's being watched or surveilled."

None of this appeased my brother's growing frustration, "Paranoid psychosis, but behavior that's not paranoid." At this point even I looked up at him, normally he wasn't this short with people.

"Maybe he's schizophrenic," Hotch tried to pitch in. I didn't think it was a good idea, once Derek's in a mood not much can get him out of it.

"Maybe we just don't have enough for a complete profile," Derek finally spits out angrily. Ah, there it is. That's what's bugging him. Gideon telling everyone when we'd have a profile out without talking to the rest of us must have pissed him off more than I thought.

Derek continues to argue with Hotch while Spencer sat watching them, not wanting to get in the middle. I chose to sit back and let him ride out the anger. I was in no position to tell someone to calm down, especially given the fact that it wasn't uncommon for me to punch walls. As long as Derek was using his words, even if he did end up yelling, he was still doing better than me.

Gideon who had previously kept absolutely silent, finally spoke. "Alright enough. Hotch tell them we're ready." And with that, he walked right on out of the room.

That certainly didn't help Derek in the slightest.

"We're ready?" He cried incredulously, "Reid. You're good with this? We've got a woman who's only got a few hours left to live, an incomplete profile, and a unit chief on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

I know my brother better than anyone, if Gideon would just explain what's going on in his head, I know that Derek would calm down a little. He doesn't like feeling like an outsider on his own team, no one does.

I guess Gideon was intent on pushing every button my brother had, because he stuck his head in just to say, "They don't call them nervous breakdowns anymore."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, now I was frustrated. Maybe Gideon wasn't ready, maybe he was simply trying to prove something, I really didn't know. What I did know was that he was getting on my brother's last nerve. While I greatly respected Gideon, if he kept pushing and it came down to a choice, I'd stand by Derek's side without a second thought.

"It's called a major depressive episode."

Spencer may look like an adorable puppy, but he probably had the worst timing ever.

Exasperation weighed down Derek's shoulders and the only thing he could bring himself to do was haphazardly raise his hand in Spencer's direction, "I, I know Reid."

There genuinely wasn't anything I could do in this situation. I couldn't make Gideon come back and explain himself, or give Derek any peace of mind about the mental health of our newly reinstated unit chief.

Which reminded me.

"Oh! By the way," I say as I turn to look over at Hotch, who's already up and ready to walk out of the room. "I thought you were the unit chief now."

* * *

"The unidentified subject is white and in his late twenties. He's someone you wouldn't notice at first, he's someone who'd blend into any crowd. The violent nature of the crime suggests a previous criminal record. Petty crimes, maybe auto theft. We've classified him as an organized killer, careful, psychopathic as opposed to psychotic. He follows the news, has good hygiene, he's smart. Cause he's smart, the only physical evidence you'll find is what he wants you to find. He's mobile, car in good condition. Our guess, jeep Cherokee, tinted windows. The murders have all involved rapes. But rape without penetration is a form of picquerism, and that tells us he's sexually inadequate." Gideon droned on and on about the profile.

I personally stopped listening when he brought up rape. I couldn't stand to sit there and listen to him try to explain everything that was wrong with this unsub, I never could. Although he was wrong about one thing.

Just because a man doesn't use penetrative rape doesn't mean he's inadequate. Sometimes it just means he's sadistic. Sometimes there is no other reason than their own sick twisted minds.

I felt my phone vibrate against my leg and fished it out to see that the director was calling me. Quickly, I excused myself from where we had all been standing in the back of the room listening to Gideon. Usually the director didn't call me at all, he preferred to send emails or just wait to check my case reports. So the fact that he was calling meant he needed to tell me something important.

I answered as soon as I was out of the room, "Hello?"

"Ah Morgan, I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important."

I wasn't about to tell him that I was grateful for any reason to be out of the room where Gideon was debriefing. "Not at all sir. Agent Gideon is just giving out the profile as we speak."

"I'm glad to hear that." There was a brief pause where he seemed to collect his thoughts. "I'm sure it goes without saying that you should keep a very close eye on Agent Gideon for the next few weeks. In light of the Bale incident, our psych team has cleared him for active duty."

"Of course, sir. You'll be the first to know if that clearance should be taken away or not." Like I said, I respected Gideon, but I had a job to do.

"I appreciate that Agent Morgan. But there was something else I wanted to discuss with you. We are currently training a new section chief for your team, her name is Erin Strauss. I want the two of you to meet sometime after you get back so that you can fill her in on how to deal with the team on a more personal level."

"I can certainly do that sir. I look forward to meeting her and I will make sure that I send in my report as soon as we get back." I just hope this Erin Strauss was going to be a better fit for the team instead of our current section chief, that man let people do whatever they wanted since he was so close to retirement.

"Keep up the good work Morgan, we'll talk more once you're back at base."

"Thank you, sir."

And with that the call was over. I had just shoved my phone into my pocket when the doors opened, letting me know that Gideon was done giving the profile.

I couldn't say I was too disappointed that I missed it.

* * *

The only thing of importance I had seemingly missed was that the unsub had supposedly been found and apprehended during the brief time I spent on the phone. Sometimes things in this job happen way too fast.

Once we arrive to the house, Gideon heads straight in while the rest of us are a little slower. Normally I'd be worried about how hard Gideon seems to be pushing himself to prove he's fine, but he had been taking care of himself longer than I'd been alive, so I figure he'll be alright.

The first thing Hotch does once we get inside is head straight upstairs to go do god knows what. The rest of us gather around Gideon, and I notice a woman linger out of the corner of my eye, but I really don't pay her any attention.

"There's no sign of the girl here. We can arrest him with probable cause but we won't be able to hold him," Spencer winces when he tells us the bad news. I don't know why I even bothered hoping for things to be easy for once, it never was.

I'm glad we caught the guy, but if we couldn't find something to tie him to Heather, in forty-eight hours we would have to let him go. Sometimes it seemed like the law worked against us. In retrospect, forty-eight hours could pass by in the blink of an eye when it came down to the wire, it just meant we all needed to work twice as hard to uncover evidence.

"Before his Son of Sam murders, David Berkowitz set a multitude of fires." Spencer had been exploring the kitchen, but rejoined the rest of us back in the main room so that we could hear him clearly.

"Exactly how much is a multitude?"

It never failed to amuse me when Derek would ask the exact question that was roaming around my head.

"According to his diary, one thousand four hundred and-"

"Eighty-eight."

The interruption of an unfamiliar feminine voice had me spinning around to take in the brunette woman standing in the doorway. She seemed to be about my height, but it was obvious by the way her clothes hung off of her that I was much curvier. One of the only good things my father had given me in life; half of my wonderful genetics. I inherited my mother's vibrant green eyes and loose curls. Naturally I was a little lighter than Derek, but our father's dark skin tone definitely contributed to my mocha complexion.

I was proud of my thickness, something I noticed this woman severely lacked.

Taking one look at her attire damn near had me about to curl my lip. She wore a light purple button up, which wouldn't have been too awful if she hadn't have paired it with a red leather jacket. Needless to say, she wasn't pulling it off.

I guess Gideon must have known her because without any hesitation he addressed her, "Luring him out was your idea, right? Greenaway?"

I genuinely couldn't explain why my hackles rose when she straightened up proudly and began to speak, but they did. "Elle. I don't send a SWAT team into a house with children."

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes was hard. Why exactly was she proud of something that anyone with a brain would do? And because I'm kind of a bitch, I couldn't help but bring it to her attention. "That's pretty much standard practice. I've never heard of anyone sending SWAT into a home where there's potentially children involved."

I was about one hundred percent positive that Gideon knew I was baiting her because he moved on to the next subject faster than one could snap their fingers. "Hotch says your background is in sex offender cases. What can you tell us?"

While she responded I chose to study her. I had no idea why she was here on this case. We really only worked with the local police during our cases and when we worked with other branches of the FBI there was always a group of them, never just one agent.

The whole situation just rubbed me up the wrong way. And I had learned to trust my gut feelings a long time ago.

Spencer and Gideon had wandered off upstairs while she was giving her explanation, once she finished running her mouth, I turned to follow Derek, who also begun making his way up the stairs. Like fuck he was going to leave me down here with her. "Next time show a little leg," he told her jokingly. Once again I was confused. How the hell did my brother know this chick? There were footsteps behind me and I briefly turned to see her taking two steps at a time, trying to catch up with us.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Just what I wanted.

She looked past me and pointed a finger up at him, "Morgan, the only time you're gonna see a little leg from me is when I'm about to kick your ass."

I stopped moving instantly, causing her to bump into my back before she took a step down. If there was one thing I would never tolerate, it was a threat to my brother. I didn't give a flying fuck who it was coming from or even if he did something to deserve it.

I'd burn this bitch to the ground before I ever let her lay a finger on him.

Turning around slowly, the icy glare on my face surprised her. "I don't know who the hell you are, but you don't talk to my brother that way." Before she can say anything, Derek gently grabbed ahold of my arm and pulled me closer to him.

"Don't mind her, she can be a bit overprotective sometimes." He laughed lightly, trying to play it off. But I held my glare steady because I didn't think it was funny.

She shot me a few side glances before she turned her attention back to Derek, "Seriously I want that opening at the BAU. You got any advice?"

I hated people like this. It now made sense as to why she was here. She was hoping to get in on this case and impress either Hotch or Gideon enough that she could worm her way into getting a spot on the team. She disguised her desperation as eagerness.

This chick was going to be a pain in my ass, I just knew it.

Realizing that I was moments away from sprouting off yet another sarcastic reply, Derek gently tugged on me, maneuvering us so that he was behind and nudging me up the stairs. "Just trust your instincts." Derek didn't spare her a second glance, his focus completely on getting me away from her.

I still didn't know how he knew her, but I'm guessing there was a reason that he had never mentioned her before. Maybe he instinctually knew I wouldn't get along with her.

He noticed Spencer at the top of the stairs that led to the attic and sent me towards him with a nod before he went off in the direction of a bedroom that some of the officers were searching.

I tried to force that Greenaway girl from my mind. I had a job to do and it wouldn't get done if I was distracted.

* * *

Spencer was waiting for me in the attic and I knew that if he took one look at the aggravation that no doubt lined my face, he would know something was up and would pry until I finally spilled the beans. I could bitch about Greenaway later on the jet, once we found the unsub, now was not the time. So I plastered on a look of complete nonchalance before meeting his eyes.

Without a word, I link my arm with his and nod over to where Hotch and Gideon are standing over what appears to be a weird ass checker table. "So, what the hell is that?" If anyone would know, it would be Spencer.

"In China it's called Wei-Chi. We know it as 'Go'. It's considered to be the most difficult board game ever conceived."

I chuckled under my breath. I knew he'd be able to tell me what it was without needing to do any research. Sometimes I wondered why Spencer bothered collecting knowledge about things that seemed useless, but whatever made him happy I guess.

The stairs behind us started creaking and I couldn't help the way my body stiffened in response. I knew that it would be impossible for it to be an assailant considering how many police were currently swarming the entire house, but for so many years my survival depended on my senses, and that never truly went away.

Apparently Greenaway had decided that it was alright to invite herself into our space, because she wandered over to us without any care in the world.

"What kind of game is it?"

I was starting to wish I had just stayed with Derek.

Spencer opens his mouth to answer but I beat him to the punch, "The most difficult game in the world." There was no need for him to get into semantics with her, it's not like she'd be sticking around anyway.

"Chairman Mao required his generals to learn it," Gideon absentmindedly adds.

I decide to head out of the attic. It wasn't really a calm zone for me since Greenaway showed up, and I really had no interest in discussing some old ass board game.

"What kind of player is Slessman?" Hotch's voice grows fainter with every step I take away from them.

"Extreme aggressor."

* * *

I had found Derek sitting in front of a computer with his brows furrowed in slight agitation. It only took me a couple seconds after looking at the screen to realize the cause. I was standing behind him, resting my hands atop his shoulders, when everyone decided to join us.

"What's the number six at the bottom of the screen?" Greenaway asks after invading our personal space yet again. That was getting real fucking annoying.

It did not escape my notice that this agent apparently didn't possess the ability to read.

"It says 'login attempts remaining' underneath the number. Was that understandable, or would you like me to explain further?" I casually turned to look at her before cocking an eyebrow. There was nothing but pure professionalism in my tone.

I could practically see her feathers getting ruffled by the way she shot me a what I'm sure she thought was a death glare, when in reality she looked more like a petulant toddler. "There could be an email or a journal in the computer, something that tells us where Heather is." Deeming me unworthy of her attention, she moved on to Derek, "Do you think you can break in?"

"In six tries?" Derek had reached the point where he couldn't even contain his scoff. Us Morgans were pretty fiery people, and we were quick to clapback as well. I mean we could only hold back the attitude for so long before it started seeping through the cracks.

"Try again. Fail again. Fail better."

By now the rest of us had all gotten pretty used to Gideon's penchant for spouting off whatever quotes he thought helped benefit the situation. It didn't necessarily bother me, I just didn't happen to find it as useful as I'm sure he intended it to be.

"Samuel Beckett." Spencer on the other hand, ate that kind of shit up. Maybe it was due to his eidetic memory, but I had a feeling that he knew every author of every quote Gideon would ever use.

And because Derek likes fuckery more than he'll ever admit, he can't help but throw in his own version of a quote, "Try not. Do or do not."

Gideon looks utterly lost and that's all it takes for me to let loose a chuckle. "Yoda, vecchio uomo. He's quoting Yoda." His look of confusion lessened slightly, but I could tell he didn't really get the point.

There was a lapse of silence that could almost be described as peaceful. Greenaway was searching for god knows what, Spencer and Derek were both thinking about what could crack that computer code, and I was just happy that my team was under one roof.

But of course that couldn't last because the world takes pleasure in making my life a living hell. It took Gideon maybe thirty seconds before he broke the quiet, "I wanna talk to him."

I guess he decided that no one else had anything to say about that, because he walked right on out of the room. I growled under my breath before making my way after him, could no one sit still for longer than five goddamn minutes?

It's not like I could let him go alone, Gideon had a bad habit of believing he was invincible. Okay maybe he didn't think that, but whatever it was, for some odd reason he never took himself into consideration when times like this arose. Not once did he worry about his own safety, or what it could do to his psyche. He just walked towards the danger headfirst.

Not that I really had any room to speak.

I'd always been a little on the reckless side myself. Pointing that gun at Joey, ready to end his life without a thought as to the repercussions it would mean for me as a minor. All the fights I got into during high school because I refused to let anyone speak poorly about my mother, regardless of the fact that they were right, she had been a druggie. Or my actions in that small camp in Afghanistan, how I had no intention of leaving there alive.

Yeah, I _really_ couldn't lecture Gideon about shit.

* * *

Slessman had a certain air around him. His frail stature stopped him from coming anywhere close to intimidating, but it was his eyes that told the real story. The eerie emptiness that swirled in those dark pools was borderline suffocating.

He was seated at the kitchen table, an officer standing directly behind him. Gideon took a seat across from him while I opted to stand beside him. I didn't like the way his gaze stuck to us, it felt murky, like a thick fog that sticks to your skin in a humid swamp.

"So you read my paper. Learn anything?" Gideon has always preferred to take a roundabout approach to his interviews. He liked to lull them into a false sense of security, they were more likely to slip up that way.

"Heirens said a man living inside of his head was the one who committed the murders. You said he was lying." There's a potent detachment in his voice, one I've never been able to understand. How someone could close themselves off to the horrific things they had done, never made sense to me. "You said that there had never been an actual case of multiple personalities."

Gideon looks real bored at the moment, he's really not feeling the vibe Slessman's putting off. Not that I blame him in the slightest. "You have an academic interest in dissociative identity disorder, or are you just planning your defense?"

Apparently this weasel of a man had come to the incorrect conclusion that he had outsmarted Gideon judging by the twisted half smirk he displayed while chuckling lowly.

Opening up a book he had grabbed from upstairs, Gideon took out an old newspaper clipping. It wasn't until he slid it in front of Slessman that I got a good look at it. Featured on the front page was Gideon, hands covered in blood with a shell-shocked look plastered across his face.

I really hated how this seemed to keep popping up every which way we turned.

Gideon's face is hard as he stares Slessman down, "You a fan of Adrien Bale's work?"

The way Slessman couldn't keep his eyes off the paper could have made me think he was possessed. That shit wasn't normal. "No," he shook his head before finally glancing up, seemingly gazing directly into Gideon's soul. "I'm a fan of yours."

Holy shit.

Talk about textbook definition of psychopath.

While Slessman and Gideon continue to stare at one another, no doubt trying to see who'll break first, I took stock of the little things I had seen. Every head twitch, the subtle shifts in his expression when Gideon hit a sore spot, hell even the pattern that he tapped his fingers to against the table. I look for anything that might indicate he'll pounce in Gideon's direction.

It doesn't help that the officer who's supposedly keeping an eye on Slessman, has his hands resting on his belt. God forbid anything go wrong, this officer wouldn't be quick enough to grab his gun. Compared to his stance, I'm sure mine just screams paranoia. I've got one hand twitching against the handle of my firearm, while the other is resting tensely at my side, ready to snap up at a moment's notice.

Suddenly any light that might have been in his eyes was gone. Slessman tilted his head and spoke slowly, "You know they never give you the real facts about CPR. That outside of a hospital it's only effective seven percent of the time. Your friend had a ninety-three percent certainty of dying, but you kept trying." I could feel my anger rising the more he continued to talk, "Even after you'd broken his ribs, even after his blood was all over your hands." His lips upturned in triumph before he made to lean forward, no doubt about to taunt Gideon again.

Having absolutely enough of this, I promptly grab his shoulder and push him back in his chair. "You don't get to move." His heated glare swung towards me, offended that I dared to interrupt his conversation with Gideon. Clearly this motherfucker didn't know who I was.

I did whatever the fuck I wanted, and this pathetic excuse of a man would not intimidate me.

"If you would like to test me on this, I will have a strait jacket brought in. I will strap you into it, lay you on the floor, and then watch as you squirm about uncomfortably."

I didn't bother lowering my voice, after a year of working together Gideon woulda known exactly what I said without having to hear it, so I didn't bother concealing it. I wait until his body relaxes back into the chair before I remove the firm hand I placed on his shoulder.

Him and I continue to stare one another down, I wasn't kidding about the strait jacket. I did find his look of frustration amusing though. With the training I've undergone and my experience during my service, I'm the last person he wants to try to overpower. When he continues to glare, I narrow my own eyes in a manner that I hope conveys the message: _try it, I dare you_.

Laying this guy flat on his ass would be of no great consequence to me.

Gideon drew Slessman's attention back to him, "Why don't you tell us where Heather Woodland is?"

Slessman paused and looked off into the corner before refocusing back on Gideon, "Woodland..." He licked his bottom lip, much to my disgust, before tilting his head mockingly. "Isn't she the girl that went missing a couple days ago?"

Was it too much to ask that these creeps just fess up when we ask them to?

Gideon took stock of the room around us for a moment before he made eye contact with the officer behind Slessman, "Get him out of here."

I personally didn't move until Gideon was out of the kitchen. I saw Hotch standing in the hallway, looking off in the direction Gideon had walked off in. Before I could say anything, he turned to look at me, "I got this. Go upstairs and try to help them figure out the code."

Nodding, I turned and made my way up the stairs, content in the knowledge that Hotch could handle Gideon just fine.

* * *

Gideon brought Hotch and Greenaway back to the field office with Slessman. Gideon's always been super observant and I'm sure it wasn't hard to feel the tension between Greenaway and I, thus I had come to the conclusion that Greenaway had been taken to keep the peace around here.

Derek's voice brought me back to the moment, he was standing with his back to me as he talked into his phone. "Hey it's Morgan. Need you to work me some magic here. I got a program called Deadbolt Defense, and a girl with only a couple of hours to live, so what do you know?" There was a pause before a playful glint entered his eyes that caught my attention. "I thought I was calling the office of supreme genius."

That was all I needed to know exactly who was on the other end of this phone call. Two steps forward and I was right behind him, plucking the phone from his grip just in time to hear, "Well gorgeous, you've been rerouted to the office of too friggin' bad." I ignored the look of fond exasperation that my brother directed my way.

"Aw, I think you're gorgeous too bambola."

I was rewarded with a sharp squeal that I was one hundred percent expecting. "Hi Darling! What a treat, both Morgans calling little ole' me."

I had to laugh, she was just so precious. It was damn near impossible for someone to hate that woman, she quite literally lit up whatever room she entered. "Well I haven't gotten to see you for a week, I'm going through withdrawals." I didn't have to be there to know she had one hand to her heart as she gushed. "I just wanted to make sure I said my hellos before my brother got away with hogging you all to himself, you know how he can be. Can't talk much now, but I promise that we'll get together once we're back, okay?"

"I'll be eagerly awaiting your arrival." Penelope was too sweet sometimes.

I blew a kiss into the phone before snapping it shut and tossing it back to Derek, who like always was expecting it, and caught the phone perfectly. Sometimes he was a straight up showoff. I leaned my back against the wall and watched as Derek started to wander around the room, trying to get a feel for who Slessman is.

He made his way into the bathroom where he pulled out a prescription bottle from the medicine cabinet, "My name is Richard Slessman and I have trouble sleeping." Apparently being a profiler meant you spoke to yourself whenever, the whole team did it and sometimes it was a little weird depending on the subject matter.

"Not to point out the obvious, but that little creep looked like he'd get off if he got to sleep in a coffin rather than a bed."

Derek's gaze swung to mine, "Seriously?" He looked like he wanted to ask why I thought that but also didn't really want an answer.

I shrugged, "Dunno. He seems like the type."

"Ari, that's a pretty specific type."

"You wouldn't be questioning it if you'd seen the way he looked at Gideon downstairs."

Derek took a moment for my words to sink in before slowly nodding in acquiesce. Another one of the many reasons my brother is beyond amazing in my eyes. In the middle of an investigation, if I went completely off topic, he never scolded me. Hell he'd join in most of the time.

Moving on, Derek walked past me to lay down on Slessman's bed and no bullshit, a full body shudder ran through me. Why in the name of fuck would he do that? I mean surely that can't be sanitary. Normal people do all sorts of weird shit in their beds, who the hell wanted to think about what that little serial killer was doing in his.

"Okay, what do I do when I'm trying to get to sleep?"

I continued to stare at my brother like he had lost his mind, and after a minute or two, he finally noticed. Eyebrows furrowed at my expression, he looked at me like I was the one with the problem. "We just gonna pretend you're not laying on the bed of a suspected vampire?" Naturally, I just couldn't let it go.

Derek rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, "Hey now, the vampirism wasn't fully confirmed."

"Listen Derek, he came close enough. I bet he woulda lit up like a funeral pyre doused in gasoline if I sprayed him with some holy water."

"I mean if we're being honest," he looks over at me with a knowing smirk, "if I was sprayed with holy water, I'd probably go up in flames too."

This cheeky bastard. I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I walked over to him, "You got something to tell me?" I moved like I was gonna grab his face, "Open your mouth, I wanna check your teeth."

Laughing, Derek reached over to grab one of the pillows and swung it at me. Luckily I had fast reflexes and got the fuck outta dodge. I hadn't been joking about the hygiene of Slessman's personal items. I pointed at my childish older brother, "You best believe you'll be bathing in hand sanitizer before you come near me again. Who knows what you just caught."

I went to wipe my hands on my pants when they hit something solid beside me. Turning, I saw a CD rack that was filled to capacity. Derek's original question ran through my head as I continued to stare at the vast selection. "By the way," I drew Derek's attention over to where I was pointing next to me, "that might have something to do with your little insomnia problem."

"Well it's a better place to start than nowhere."

I turned to stare at him with a deadpan expression, "You know, 'thank you for the help my dear sweet sister' is also an acceptable answer."

* * *

Derek and I had been going through Slessman's CD's for what seemed like hours before Spencer wandered down to come help us. In reality it had probably only been about half an hour, but it felt like an eternity. Derek and I had found jack shit, so Spencer decided to sit on the bed and scatter the CD's around him.

What the fuck was with my boys and this bed? Maybe I was a germaphobe, but there was just something so fundamentally wrong with them sitting on this bed. I scowled down at the object in offense.

Suddenly grasping onto a plastic case, Spencer's head shot up, "I think I've got something. Where's Morgan?"

Oh, did I forget to mention that Derek had essentially said 'fuck this' and wandered off back to the attic about five minutes after Spencer came to help?

Cause he totally did. Not that I blamed him, I was over this before we even started.

I pointed up, indicating that he was on the level above us. Knowing that he would follow, I turned and made my way towards my brother. As soon as I cleared the stairs I could see his figure pacing back and forth in agitation.

I felt myself soften at the sight. Sometimes you couldn't save everyone. That doesn't mean you don't try, it just means that at the end of the day even we have our limitations. It sucks, but that's life.

It was a lesson Derek didn't like, but I was forced to learn it the hard way and I didn't want that for him.

Squeezing past me, Spencer made for Slessman's computer. "I think we may have missed the obvious," he used a paper clip to hit the eject button and out popped a CD.

An irrational amount of anger coursed through me. All that fucking time going through CD's and the one we needed was right here the whole time? I should go slap Slessman for wasting my motherfucking time.

Although how Spencer figured it out went right over my head.

Derek quickly came over to take a seat in front of the computer screen where a passcode was required to unlock it, "Alright. I'm an insomniac who listens to Metallica to go to sleep at night. What song could possibly speak to me?"

None that I was familiar with. Plus I was still convinced that Slessman was a vampire.

"Enter Sandman."

I made my way to stand behind the two of them while Spencer figured it out. Derek quickly typed in the password and the next thing we knew a live video feed of Heather was on the screen.

The sight of her caused me to freeze.

I could barely hear Derek telling Spencer to call Gideon over the sound of my pounding heart. It felt like all the heat in the room vanished as a chill ran up my spine. I had to grip the back of the couch to keep myself standing.

The burn behind my eyes told me that tears were soon to follow if I didn't get myself under control. But I couldn't, the carefully constructed walls I had built around me shook and creaked under the pressure. Here this poor girl was, trapped in a cage, tape wrapped around her eyes tightly, and a rag shoved in her throat to prevent her muffled cries from being heard. It was truly a very sad sight, but that's not what hit me.

Heather's face had been replaced with Tara's and I had to fight to get air back in my lungs.

 _Tara, sweet Tara, who wanted nothing more than to watch her kids grow up. Tara, whose motherly instincts made the rest of us miss home a little less._

 _The same Tara who had gone missing when she volunteered to help another unit for a recon mission._

 _Private Lieutenant Tara Woods who was forced on her knees, blindfolded, as her and two other soldiers were shot in an act of retaliation._

 _Tara Amelia Woods whose execution I had to watch on tape, whose body I'd had to identify and send home for proper burial._

 _Tara with a hole in the back of her head._

 _Tara who left three little kids motherless._

 _Tara who died with nothing more than the goddamn dark to comfort her-_

The tear that ran down my cheek pulled me from my rapid spiraling thoughts and I roughly wiped it away before it could be seen. Tara had deserved so much more than what the world had given her, all of them did.

I never could figure out why I was the only one who didn't come home in a box.

I had to force myself to remember that this was Heather, not Tara. Heather needed our help now and Tara had been far beyond my reach for quite some time, I couldn't change what had happened.

I had to stay in the present; otherwise the past would suffocate me with the guilt. And I wasn't sure I was strong enough to fight it again.

* * *

Hotch had called to inform us that while we had been searching through CD's, a time consuming and quite frankly boring task, they had found Slessman's partner. A man named Vogel was apparently the dominant one of the two of them. He had also managed to find a way to dupe them.

We wanted to come in, help them track Vogel, but Hotch ordered us to stay put, saying we could be more helpful here. So for the past couple minutes all we've been able to do was watch helplessly as Heather continued to cry from within her cage. We may not have known where she was, but it was a small comfort that she was still alive.

Spencer hadn't stopped pacing behind us, shooting the computer an odd glance ever so often. I knew not to ask him what he was doing, it went without saying that his brain was moving too fast for me to keep up anyway.

It didn't take much longer before Spencer locked onto something, "Morgan can you show me the last twelve images lined up next to each other?"

Derek did as he was asked and we all leaned closer to see that the hanging light was moving slightly. Spencer noticeably perked up, "Right there, right there. You see that?" He pointed at the screen, "The light bulb hanging from the wire? It's shifting positions. Like it's swaying..." His words trailed off as he moved his head along with the light. "It's like the earth is tilting."

Bingo.

"Oh, she's not on land doc," I looked back and smirked at Spencer, incredibly proud that he had noticed something so small yet important. "She's in the ocean."

Derek, being the seasoned agent between the three of us, immediately went into command mode. "Ariadne go call Hotch and let him know the search parameters have changed." I stood and let Spencer take my place beside Derek while the two of them pulled the computer closer, trying to find any more hidden clues that might help with the location.

I pulled out my phone, hoping that Hotch would pick up. I knew he was probably in the middle of an intense interrogation with Slessman, or 'the vampire' as I liked to refer to him as, but this was a serious game changer that he needed to know about now.

"Hotch." I thanked the heavens that he picked up.

"Hey, so Spencer just figured out that Heather's on a boat."

The sound of rustling clothes fills my ears and when he replies Hotch's voice is labored, "She's on a boat? Where?" He must be jogging somewhere with the way he was exhaling into the receiver.

"If I knew her exact location I woulda started with that key piece of information. That being said, she's gotta be on a pier or a dock. There's no way he'd be able to transmit a live feed from somewhere in the middle of the ocean." I felt I deserved a little bit of credit here, if I had known the address I would've called Gideon since he was the one out in the field at the moment.

"You're sure about this?"

I let a small chuckle slip through my lips, "C'mon boss man, I wouldn't call you with some half assed guess." I could imagine him nodding along to that. "Spencer knows what he's doing, we just have to trust him. But Slessman's still the only one who knows exactly where she is, that's where you come in."

It was a shame I wasn't there to break the little man. I would've enjoyed it after what he had said to Gideon.

"What's it you two always ask Garcia?"

"To give up the location of the hidden photoshopped pictures she's made of Derek and I that we all know are on her hard drive."

Probably not what he meant, but it is something I frequently ask.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke, "I'm not saying that isn't true, but that's not what I'm talking about."

Knowing my time was running short, I hurried to wrap this up. "Derek always asks her to work a little magic for him, I'll see what I can do about that. You have fun with Slessman, and don't be afraid to beat the answers out of him."

I was only partly joking.

I hung up the phone and made my way back to the boys wondering if there was truly anything else we could do from here.

I wasn't messing around about the existence of those pictures either. Penelope swore she'd take the location of those photos to the grave, but I'll find them one day.

It was kinda funny in a way. Most people assumed Penelope was straight as an arrow with the way she and Derek constantly went back and forth with the heavy banter. So it came as a shock to a few people when I received the same attention upon joining the team.

I guess she just had a thing for Morgans.

* * *

Hotch ended up letting us know they got the location out of Slessman through text. Apparently he did not need to physically harm the smaller man into giving up his partner. That was a pity, dude definitely deserved at least one solid punch to the throat.

Gideon and Greenaway were on their way to the shipyard that Heather was being held hostage at. The only problem was that Vogel had gotten a significant head start on them, so it was our job to watch and let them know when he arrived.

I was biting my fingernail when a shadow appeared on the screen. I quickly nudged Derek to get his attention and we watched as a body approached the cage.

There you are you bastard. Caught you red fucking handed.

I couldn't help but bite down on my nail harder in anticipation. I should be there with Gideon right now, ensuring his safety. Instead I was sitting around uselessly watching a screen. My job was to be out there, if only I'd known they would end up chasing after the unsub.

Greenaway better be the best damn lookout or I'll make sure she never even hears about the BAU again.

Derek turns and points at Spencer, "Get Elle on the phone."

That makes me stop short. What in the ever-loving hell is going on?

Why does Spencer have her number? Why aren't we calling Gideon? And again, why does _Spencer_ have _her_ number?

When the fuck did I miss that exchange of information?

Spencer, oblivious to my brief crisis, quickly does as he's told and before I know it he's handing the phone over to my brother. It doesn't take Derek long before he's up and pacing once again, "Listen to me. You need to wait for backup."

I could've scoffed at his request. This girl was aiming for a spot in the BAU, there is no way on this green earth that she was gonna let her moment to shine slip through her fingers.

I couldn't hear what Greenaway said in response but going off of Derek's tone of voice, it wasn't anything helpful. "And if we had waited in Boston-"

Boston was a tricky situation, one that affected all of us. The only reason Gideon lost it was because the blame fell solely upon his shoulders according to most people. Had the roles been reversed, I couldn't say for sure that the rest of us would be as okay as we were now. That was why I grabbed the phone before Derek could continue on.

"Greenaway, just watch his back and you won't have anything to worry about." I hung up after that, there was nothing else for me to say to her. I handed the phone back to my brother, making sure I caught his eyes before letting go, "Boston wasn't his fault, he only did what he thought was best at the time. None of us are perfect and it would be hypocritical of us to hold him to an impossible standard."

I hadn't been there for the whole thing that day, I was on a conference call with the director when I found out that the rest of my team was onsite. I'd never driven so fast in my life. It was one of the few times in my life where I've been so close to losing it. It wasn't something I liked to remember, so I had sympathy for Gideon.

I maintained eye contact with my brother until he gave me a slight nod to let me know he got the point. I knew there wasn't anything else I could do up here, nothing beside sit around, and I had no desire to keep seeing Tara's face flash across the back of my eyelids whenever I closed my eyes for more than a second. So I made my way through the house, intent on getting some fresh air while I awaited the news.

* * *

We didn't have to wait long before we were informed that Vogel had been caught and Heather was safe and sound. That came as a major relief to us, I don't know what it would've done to Gideon if his first case back had ended in tragedy.

It didn't take long for Derek, Spencer and I to make it down to the shipyard. Once we rolled up, I quickly made my way out of the car towards where Gideon and Greenaway were standing. I was relieved to see that he looked alright, that was until my eyes wandered down to his bandaged arm. Without a single word, I lifted the limb in order to inspect it.

The wound had bleed through the white gauze a little, creating a more circular shape. Had the pattern been anything else I would have assumed he'd been grazed with a knife. I met the older man's eyes, "Through and through?" I asked him, making sure to keep my calm.

Gideon visible softened at the look of concern I shot him, "Yeah, nothing to worry about. The paramedics have already taken care of it." And to my complete and utter horror he praised the woman standing next to us, "Elle here shot him at first opening."

I couldn't give a rat's ass about what _Elle_ did.

Clearly she was too slow if he had gotten shot in the first place. Jesus, these people did their absolute best to give me a heart attack. I was going to go prematurely grey doing this job.

The rest of the team had gathered around us at this point and I let go of Gideon's arm. I refused to look over at Greenaway, not wanting to rile myself up any further. While conversation broke out among us, Gideon took off to go speak to one of the officers near the ship.

"So what kind of report do they want on him?"

Derek's question made me focus my attention back on him and Hotch. I knew that as our boss Hotch was required to turn in his own report, probably to HR, as to Gideon's performance in the field. A report I'm sure wouldn't differ too much from mine.

"I suppose whether he's fit to be a field agent." Hotch looked serious for a moment before a small smile covered his face, "You know Haley and I were looking at a baby names book. Guess what Gideon means in Hebrew."

If he even thought about naming his kid Gideon, I was gonna riot.

"Mighty warrior," Spencer popped up outta nowhere before he smirked, "Appropriate." And with that he walked over to Gideon without a single glance back at us.

I had to laugh a little at it. His timing was kind of impeccable with that one. Not even Derek or Hotch were immune to the humor of the situation if their slight chuckles were anything to go off of. I was a firm believer that Hotch's smiles were to be protected at all costs, seeing as how they were few and far between. Plus he looked far less intimidating with them.

Derek was the first to sober up as he continued with the previous topic of conversation, "So, what are you gonna tell them?"

I knew there was no way that Hotch would give a report indicating that Gideon was unfit for the field. The man would have had to be drinking straight from a flask for Hotch to even consider thinking he couldn't handle the stress. Loyalty ran deep within the team, not even Hotch's need for professionalism overrode it.

"He saved that girl's life. That'll be good enough for the director for now," I so wasn't going to get into how I knew that.

I reached out for Derek's hand and dragged him over to where Gideon and Spencer were standing.

* * *

Every one of us was having a hard time keeping our eyes open by the time the plane settled into the air. Spencer had passed out in one of the chairs almost immediately, his soft snores were actually kind of adorable.

Not that I would ever let him know I thought that.

Derek and I claimed the couch for ourselves, he chose to be a gentleman and let me spread out before resting my head on his leg. I sent him a sleepy smile that I hoped conveyed my gratitude. I had a feeling that the nightmares would be kept at bay with his presence.

Fingers made their way into my hair, lulling me into a feeling of warm nothingness. "Buona notte," my voice drifted off as I closed my eyes.

"Buona notte principessa."

I clutched his pantleg a little tighter before I let my consciousness drift. It hadn't been our worst case, but it also wasn't the easiest either. However at the end of the day my team was here, safe on the jet, heading home with only minor injuries.

That's all I could really ask for.

* * *

Translations:

Vecchio uomo- Old man

Bambola: Doll

Buona notte- Goodnight

Principessa: Princess


	3. Chapter 3

"Be as fearless as the women whose stories you have applauded."

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Compulsion**

 **Ariadne POV:**

Watching Spencer play chess with himself was about as fun as it sounded. However, it happened to beat the alternative where I actually had to be the other player. No matter how much he bugged me about it, I refused to play chess with him. Not only had I never actually learned the game, I simply had no interest in it.

I also knew it'd be a cold day in hell before I ever beat him, therefore I was content to sit my pretty ass down and watch from afar.

My desk happened to be the one across from Spencer's, but I never really spent a lot of time there. If someone needed me, they could usually find me at either Spencer's desk or Derek's. Taking a look over at my station I can see the small mountain of paperwork that resides on it and feel my mood drop. I was so not looking forward to having to read all that.

Gideon descended from the stairs behind us and in one swift move he made a play on the chess board. "Check. Checkmate in three moves." And as if nothing happened, he walked off. Naturally, both Spencer and I threw questioning looks at Gideon's back.

"What...?"

My sentiments exactly.

Derek twisted his chair around to look at the two of us, "You know you'll beat him when you start learning."

Maybe I was just an idiot, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what Gideon knew about chess that Spencer didn't. No offense to Gideon, it's just that Spencer is a certified genius, there's not much that he doesn't know. Except for maybe a few social skills.

"Learning what?" Spencer asked, just as confused by the prospect as I was.

"To think outside the box."

I gave my brother a deadpan stare. I should've known he'd say something like that; it didn't make sense and yet a part of it did. This conversation was fast becoming much too fucking complicated for me.

Reaching out, I allowed myself to run my fingers through Spencer's hair gently. I was becoming way too attached, but as far as he was concerned these were just the actions of a best friend. "You're the smartest person I know. I have no doubt that you'll beat him one day, so don't stress out about it too much."

I'm pleased when he nods, actually looking like he believes me. Which is good, because his self-esteem could use a serious booster most days.

The sound of heels clacking against the floor alerts me to the rapidly approaching she-demon as she made her way into the pen with the rest of us. "Question for you," she stopped once she reached Derek's desk. "The footpath killer, why did he stutter?"

Her arrival had done wonders in decreasing my mood, and her question only served to aggravate me. But instead of saying anything, mostly because I didn't trust my mouth, I turned my cold gaze onto her form. Derek was clearly the nicer sibling, a fact I had absolutely no problem admitting because he was actually entertaining this bullshit.

"Come on Elle, we've all asked him, and he won't say. He wants us to figure it out."

Correction dear brother, I didn't bother asking Gideon anything about that day. The whole thing had really pissed me off. How the fuck was it fair for him to get into trouble when he wasn't even on the job?

Needless to say, I hadn't been happy with myself, feeling somehow like I had failed at my job. I was struggling to reign in my agitation with the whole situation, a feeling that clung to me like a bad odor. I'd come in for my monthly meeting with the director, a time we used to ensure every measure was being taken for the team's security, and it had taken him one look to realize I was still pretty bothered.

 _You can't be everywhere at once Agent Morgan. Things happen, that's what life is all about. Don't beat yourself up over something you had absolutely no control over. To do so is an insult to your abilities._

I wasn't accustomed to anyone other than Derek trying to console me, but the sentiment was appreciated none the less.

Greenaway stood a little straighter, pushing her shoulders back while tilting her chin upwards, "Okay, I'm up for a challenge."

I rolled my eyes to the heavens and scoffed loudly. I knew it'd draw her attention to me, but did I care? Not a single fucking bit. I'd been moody for the entire goddamned week; nothing was going my way. Gideon had gotten himself into a holy fuck of a situation, Greenaway had somehow managed to get on probation with the BAU, and my mother wouldn't stop calling and asking about when I was gonna come up for a visit.

I loved my mother, despite all that had happened throughout my childhood, but that didn't mean I could always be around her. I didn't like the person I reverted into when I was with her. I was no longer Ariadne Morgan, the collected young adult who served her country and somehow managed to endear herself to a group of people by being a grade A sarcastic but lovable bitch.

No, around Valeria Costa I became broken little Ariadne. The girl who resented her father and the impossible standards he left in his wake. The girl who got pushed into walls and thrown down stairs by some lowlife junkie who turned her home into a personal hell. The girl who prayed for those blue and red lights to come rescue her when that same junkie would wander into her room at night and claim there was nothing wrong with it. The girl who had to shove her fingers down her mother's throat to ensure she wouldn't become an orphan. The girl who ran headfirst into a war just to escape the shadows of her past, dragging the only good thing in her life down the rabbit hole with her. The girl who was wasn't quite strong enough, or fast enough, to save the people she had grown to call 'family'.

The Ariadne my mother knew created holes in the walls when the nightmares became too much, she shut everyone out and wore her guilt like a treasured prom dress.

Here I could pretend I wasn't so fucked up, in this office with these people who had never seen the worst of me. But in the face of my mother I couldn't hide who I really was behind all the walls I'd built.

I had been destined to crash and burn, and the only person who could see that, who could bring up those age-old deep wounds, kept begging me to come back like it didn't light my soul of fire just to look her in the eyes.

So after five voicemails and over twenty text messages, I think I earned the right to be as snarky as I fucking wanted.

So when Greenaway glared at me, I wasn't ashamed to say I grinned in response. I was nothing if not honest when I called myself a bitch. I owned that shit, wore it like a badge of honor.

I was so preoccupied with making sure Greenaway knew I wasn't going to take her transfer lying down, that I completely missed JJ coming towards us. When she spoke I was a little startled, "These go to you." She placed a stack of papers into Greenaway's arms before continuing, "Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, JJ if you like."

Greenaway struggled to get herself together, shoving the papers into one hand so she could stick out the other in JJ's direction, "Elle Greenaway."

"Well, I'm the unit liaison. My specialty is untangling bureaucratic knots." JJ gave me a quick side hug while she spoke before she turned to make her way up the stairs towards the conference room. "You'll probably be talking to me a lot. My door's always open, mostly because I'm never in my office, so just call me on my cell, okay? We'll talk."

JJ was moving so quick that she was out of sight as soon as she finished her sentence. The idea of Greenaway immersing herself into this team was not a comforting thought. Maybe I was just overly possessive of the people I considered to be mine, I don't know.

What I did know is that Derek was off fucking limits. Over my dead body would the two of them become besties. I'd be fucking damned before she ever got an invitation to meet the rest of the family.

"BAU team, can you meet me in the conference room please? I need to show you something."

Hotch also seemed to sprout from thin air because one second he wasn't there and now he was. I try to ignore the fact that Greenaway is coming with us, that's definitely going to be something I have to get used to. Who knows, maybe my prayers would be answered and her probationary period would suck ass and she'd leave.

I could dream after all.

Hotch waited till we were all seated before he began debriefing us, "This is from the Phoenix office, Bradshaw College in Tempe, six fires in seven months."

Ah, arson, gotta love the invention of that.

JJ goes on to inform the rest of us that a kid with a digital camcorder recorded the whole thing from the building across from the dorm, "The other person you'll see is his roommate twenty year old Matthew Rowland."

As the video begins, I couldn't help but notice that whoever was holding the camera didn't seem to understand the levity of the danger around them. "Whoa that's crazy!" Clearly both men were more enraptured by the fire than they should have been. They didn't say the words out of fear, in fact I was pretty sure I could hear a hint of excitement in their voices, I guess college was not nearly exciting enough for them.

There's movement behind them that catches my eyes, and I watch as a strange substance starts coming out from underneath their door. It's becoming pretty clear that the fire in the building across of them is simply a distraction.

It didn't take long for one of the guys to reach out and touch it, and we all watched as he went up in flames immediately.

Maybe it said something important that the sight didn't do much to me. Perhaps I should have been more disgusted by it, been more sympathetic like Penelope would've been, but I wasn't. I'd seen a lot during the duration of my service, most of it occurring by my own hands, and the sight of this young man on fire was not something that'd I'd be haunted by in the least.

I didn't like what that said about me.

* * *

Spencer was still playing his chess game on the jet, and I wanted no part in that so I elected to steal the seat next to my brother. Like fuck I'd let Greenaway sit beside him. My head was resting on his shoulder and I watched as he pulled up a calendar on the computer he placed in front of us.

"There are two common stressors for a serial arsonist," Spencer chimed in while moving a chess piece.

I don't know how Spencer can play chess and still be keep up with a completely different thought process at the same time.

"Loss of employment and love," I pipe up from my comfortable position. I mean don't get me wrong, both situations suck, but just because your lover ran away doesn't mean you have the right to set shit ablaze.

"When was the first fire set?" I could feel the vibrations of Derek's voice while he spoke, and I had to admit that it was doing a fairly decent job of lulling me into a drowsy state.

As Hotch started reading off the dates of the previous fires, Derek highlighted them on the calendar. Soon a pattern made itself known, the fires were beginning to speed up. And we all knew that typically pointed towards a recent stressor. "Hey Reid, you got a statistic on arsonists?" Derek asked without moving his eyes from the screen.

"Of course he does. He's our resident genius for a reason."

As soon as I finished my sentence, Spencer took the opportunity to prove me right. "Eighty-two percent are white males between seventeen and twenty-seven. Female arsonists are far less likely. Their motive typically being revenge."

Sounds about right. All those songs about a woman scorned aren't just fantasy, it's a goddamn warning. Women can be downright fucking vicious when betrayed.

It was a thing of beauty really.

I wasn't saying that setting some dude on fire was the way to go, but I had nothing against a woman who fucked up her ex's car or threw his shit out the window cause he was a douche.

I go to further snuggle into my brother's shoulder when I notice that Greenaway was reading the screen from behind us. So naturally I shift upwards so that my head's blocking her view.

Her exasperated scoff is like music to my ears.

* * *

Once we arrived at the college, Gideon made us all put our badges away. He didn't want the unsub to have the satisfaction of knowing they caught the attention of the FBI. "Try not to look official." I refrain from laughing at his statement. The only people who have that down are Gideon, Spencer, and myself. The other three are in suits while I elected to go a more comfortable route.

Some white washed jeans and a light pink tank top was right up my alley. Plus I was probably the only one would of the six of us who actually looked like they could be a college student, besides Spence of course.

Gideon turned and took one look at the rest of them before sighing, "Try to look _less_ official."

Laughing, I pulled Derek aside before taking off his tie and unbuttoning the first two buttons on his shirt. "There," I stood back to admire my handiwork, "less FBI and more GQ." I smirked at the playful wink he shot me as we made our way after the others.

The dean of students was a kind woman who led us to the origin of the fire. I chose to bring up the rear of our group, keeping an eye on those passing by. The likelihood of the unsub being a student was high, and that meant everyone around us was a potential suspect. I also didn't like being out in the open where there were too many things to keep track of.

We came to a stop once inside the main building and I was able to relax a bit. Anyone could've been watching us outside, they could've even been in a dorm room watching us from above. I was so preoccupied with looking around that I missed the entire conversation in front of me. Which was something I regretted as soon as Spencer and Hotch started walking off on their own.

What the fuck do these people have against sticking together in one big group? It would make my life so much easier.

I nudged Derek with my elbow, "Hey, where are they going?"

"They're gonna go check out where the last fire was and see if they can figure out how it started."

That calmed me down significantly. There really wasn't much they could get up to when going to a place the unsub had already struck. For now I was content to follow the main group.

* * *

The dean continued with what I suppose was a tour of the campus, I really wasn't asking questions about that one, and it didn't take long before Hotch and Spencer met back up with the rest of us. I think we were in one of the cafeterias where they had set up the devices our arsonist had used on a few of the tables.

"There was no device used on Matthew Rowland. Unsub set that one manually?" Gideon asked the technician about the man we had seen on the video earlier.

"Maybe he wanted to be there to enjoy the kid's death," Derek shrugged while giving us another possibility.

I normally try not to speak up unless I'm asked to, but I figure if I say something now then maybe they'll leave me alone later. Fuck it, I'm gonna go for it. "But there was no way that he could. The fire was set from outside the room unless he set cameras up beforehand, he wasn't able to see what went on in that room. Not to mention the fact that he would have had to leave quickly so he wasn't caught. None of that sounds like he had the time or the circumstances to enjoy it."

There was a moment where I was worried I sounded like a dumbass, but then Gideon and Derek sent me a pair of proud smiles and the feeling faded. Since I was still in the training phase or whatever, positive reinforcement was used to ensure I knew when I did something right.

"Well if the target was Matthew Rowland, why set the other two fires?" The bane of my existence spoke up yet again.

Because Greenaway, an arsonist enjoys setting fires. It's kinda what they do.

Before I could voice said opinion, Spencer took over the explanation, putting it in much kinder words than I would've. "Motives for arson are relatively simple. There's vandalism, crime concealment, political statement, profit, and revenge."

I figure setting someone on fire is pretty personal, so I was betting on the whole thing being about revenge.

The rest of them continued to talk about the various other reasons as they proved and disproved theories left and right before Hotch and Gideon sent us all in different directions with a specific job.

I wanted to hit my head against the wall when those orders left their mouths. I was getting real fucking tired of this team constantly splitting up.

* * *

Derek would've been the odd man out had I not elected to wander the campus with him. I wasn't keen on any of this, but that didn't mean I could just sit back and let anything happen. The two of us ended up by the dorms, standing outside the doors and letting the cool breeze wash over us. It actually felt nice considering it was fairly warm outside.

"Alright, I want to set a dormitory on fire. Where would I start?" Derek's looking all around while he talks to himself.

"I think it's sad that those words actually came out of your mouth just now."

Turning to look back at me quizzically, Derek raised an eyebrow, "And why is that?"

I nearly scoffed at his question. How could he not see the strangeness of it all? "You're telling me that you don't find anything wrong with what you just said?"

"C'mon Ari," he turned, placing his back to me, "don't make a big deal out of nothing."

Maybe I was making something out of nothing, but I couldn't help it. "No, I'm serious Derek. I mean in what reality is it normal to have to ask yourself that type of question?"

"That's part of the job sis."

"Well it's a pretty fucking lousy job," I mutter the words under my breath so Derek won't hear them. It wouldn't do me any good to have him discover just how much I hate this job. Some people were fine with the whole doom and gloom thing, but I'd seen enough death to last me a lifetime and I really didn't want to see more. Yet here I was, placing myself in a position where I rarely went a day without being surrounded by it.

The things I do for my brother sometimes astounds me.

Derek, seemingly over our slight argument, continues to look around for any type of clue while I stubbornly keep silent. I hated fighting with Derek, in fact most of the time I didn't have the heart to, so silence was the best way for me to avoid it.

There were very few things on this plant that could ensure a screaming match between the two of us, and we'd only ever done that twice in my life. Derek and I were passionate people and we said what we wanted without consequence.

Standing on opposite sides never turned out pretty and after the last one we both promised to never go that far again.

"It wasn't the building I wanted to set on fire." Derek's voice shakes me out of my thoughts and I was about to ask him about his revelation when we were thrown into chaos.

The sound of the fire alarm shot straight through me, forming a pit in the base of my stomach. My head snaps up and I catch Derek's equally startled gaze. There's a split second where I don't know what to do. Derek's my priority, no question about it, but he's here with me; safe and sound. That means I have four other people unaccounted for.

It takes everything in me to turn my back on my brother when the threat of danger is so close by. Yet somehow I manage to.

Because there are four people I have to find.

I take off, like a bullet leaving the chamber, heart racing and soul aching as I ignore the sharp sound of Derek shouting my name.

 _Four people._

I shoot past the stairs, turning the corner and nearly colliding with Greenaway in the process. I spare her a half second gaze, her eyes reflecting the fear I'm sure are in mine, before I'm sprinting towards a building with billows of smoke coming from it. The echoing sounds of pounding feet are still trailing after me.

 _Three people._

"Move! Get out of the way!" I'm pushing bodies out of my way the closer I get to the building. Although I have no time to be gentle with my movements, I still cringe slightly at the amount of force I use. My eyes are drawn to Hotch and Spencer like beacons, they're the only things standing in between the growing crowd and the fire.

 _One person._

Without a second thought, I'm between them, throwing open the doors and launching myself into the burning building.

Because there's still _one person_ unaccounted for.

* * *

Smoke fills my vision and my lungs.

My body's first instinct is to turn right back around, where I know fresh air awaits, but I had a building to check. There's a moment when I wonder if Gideon's even here, maybe I've made a mistake and he too is waiting outside, but the sound of glass breaking confirms my fear.

I round the corner to see Gideon at the end of the corridor, using a fire extinguisher to smash the glass on a door leading to a classroom. Glass that happened to be holding the fire back.

I don't make a sound as I run ahead and grab ahold of Gideon. But of course nothing with this man is ever easy, and he immediately begins to struggle against me, trying his hardest to wrestle out of my hold. I resist the urge to hit him over the back of the head, I'd rather be forced to carry his dead weight than continue to let him fight with me.

Him staying behind is not an option, so instead I tighten my grip, probably to the point where he'll have light bruises in a few hours, and I drag his unwilling body out of the building despite his continual verbal protests. I don't even have the time to see the relieved looks coming from the rest of the team when Gideon starts yelling.

"Wait Morgan! There's somebody still in there!"

People are shouting all around us, blinding sirens and flashing lights fill the space, but all I can see is the tortured look in Gideon's eyes.

A look I'd seen far too often in the mirror.

Determination fills my every pore and in seconds I'm standing back in the building, my lungs struggling to deal with the rapid change in atmosphere. Gideon's extinguisher is clutched in my hands; I didn't know when I grabbed that.

I push past the thick smoke, fully intent of making my way back to where I had dragged Gideon from. My body was fighting this decision, knowing that it wasn't safe to stay in this building. But I had to find the man Gideon was trying to help, I just had to.

 _Do you think if you save enough people it will make up for the fact that you let the ones who mattered die?_

I beat the cruel voice back.

I hate that there's a good chance it's probably right.

However when I finally lay eyes on him, the man isn't moving. His own glossy eyes are wide open as the flames dance across his skin.

I was too late.

Again.

Suddenly there are arms clasping around my waist. The only thing that stops me from throwing back a vicious headbutt against who I thought was the potential arsonist, is the fact that I know these arms. I turn my head slightly to the right and my brother's face fills my vision. The fight drains from my body and I let him carry me out.

The sunlight assaults my eyes and my body is wracked with shuddering coughs as my body fights to inhale as much air as it can, acting like it's prepared to be deprived again soon. Derek doesn't put me down until my respiratory system finally gets itself back into working order. I didn't have time to realize while I was hacking up a lung, but Derek had yet to say a fucking word and now the silence was doing a wonderful job of making me sweat.

I'm a hundred percent sure that Hotch is keeping the rest of them back, probably cause he too felt the pissed off vibes my brother was currently throwing down.

I look up to see stern eyes and the little girl inside me practically rolls over and shows her belly, praying that her big brother will take it easy on her.

Disappointing Derek has been one of my biggest fears since I realized what disappointment was.

"What the _fuck_ were you thinking?"

The simple fact that he kept his voice quiet and controlled, scares the living hell out of me. I open my mouth to explain but my tongue feels heavy and there's a moment when I don't think I'll be able to lift it.

Derek takes notice of my struggle, no doubt assuming it's due to smoke inhalation. In reality it's because there are few things that can freeze me in my tracks and his glare is one of them. I'm wracking my brain for a reason I think he'll accept when Gideon literally comes swooping in to save my ass.

"Why didn't you let me save him? He was still alive when I was in there."

I'm thanking any god I can think of for Gideon's impeccable timing.

The older man looks beat down in this moment and he's pleading with me to give him some sort of reason to absolve him of the guilt he feels. He shouldn't feel guilty; this death isn't on him. And yet I know that he'll shoulder this loss personally.

I don't try to explain that to him, because he won't accept that, won't accept the fact that there was nothing more he could've done. All I can do is hope the softening of my eyes helps cushion the blow of my words. "Gideon, he was dead long before you even found him. You wouldn't have done anything other than get yourself killed by staying."

It was evident from the man's eyes that he had been gone. And if I thought back to it, when I grabbed Gideon, there was no other sound. No screaming or crying, nothing to indicate someone in pain. That's why I hadn't noticed there was anyone else there in the first place. I think Gideon wanted to believe he could be saved, but that wasn't the actual case.

I knew Derek was still mad at me, his tightening grip on my arm when I spoke gave it away. Using every weapon in my arsenal, I turned to look up at my big brother, eyes wide and pout firmly in place. "Mi dispiace, non volevo spaventarti," I whispered, knowing that using a softer tone would help my case.

And sure enough, Derek melted.

No matter how old I got, I would still always be his baby sister. And that status came with a few perks. Such as the fact that when using a certain face, I could practically get away with murder in his eyes. I had to refrain from laughing in delight, knowing that would give up my ruse.

I am sorry I scared him, but I would never be sorry for keeping them safe.

Derek sighed before pulling me into a rough hug, taking a few moments to ground himself in the process, "Next time just fucking wait for somebody to go with you." Derek pulled back to look me in the eyes, "Stop trying to do this shit alone."

I nod as I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Spencer. His lips are twitched down in a frown and worry lingers in his irises. I smile up at him from the warm cocoon of my brother's arms, and it's enough to assuage whatever fears he had.

I try not to look into his concern or protectiveness of me too much. I know that the mind can play tricks on you when you like someone. The last thing I wanted was to believe in something that wasn't there. Because like I said, I'd rather be a friend than nothing at all.

"He might be here watching. Elle take as many pictures as you can," Hotch points out the obvious, and it's good he did. We really didn't have time to waste fawning over me; we had a job to do.

I spare a glance at Gideon, the look of regret it still set firmly in place, but I really think he'll be okay. At the end of the day there wasn't anything he could have done and if anything I'm the one who pulled him out of there.

I'd do it again in a heartbeat, but he didn't need to know that.

* * *

I'd tried to help the rest of the team look through the various photographs that Greenaway had taken while the fire was being put out, but Derek had shut that down real quick and Hotch supported him.

I didn't think I needed a break, but I wasn't going to complain about not having to do what was essentially paperwork. I had been checked out by the paramedics briefly, like I thought I was completely fine, but my brother still persisted that I needed to rest.

Although it was difficult to see Derek becoming increasingly frustrated with the activity. "We've been at this all night, and we've got nothin'. Look at these expressions. We got fear, a touch of horror, even a little bit of panic. Where's the guy getting off?"

I decided to keep my mouth shut about the whole situation, mainly cause the more time I spent thinking about it, the more pissed off I became. This became so much more personal now that the unsub involved my team. If I had to interrogate every person on this campus to find the unsub, I would.

I entertain the idea for a moment before reality comes crashing in. There's no way Hotch'll let me do that. I guess I could always call the director and request an evac for the team, stating that due to the close call we already had, it would beneficial for a new team to take over. But I feel like that would just cause more problems than we already had.

"Sex and power, the two motives that drive a serial arsonist." Derek is still fuming beside me, and I don't blame him. Everything about this situation seemed to contradict itself.

I couldn't see the connection between the fires and power, but then again I might just be stupid. I still thought this was more about revenge than anything. Almost like the unsub was picking people off one by one.

* * *

Couple hours later and I was as good as new. Hotch had taken Spencer and I, along with a campus staff member, down to meet with a few of the chemistry students who had apparently claimed to figure out how the unsub was setting the fires. The only reason I came down here at all was because I was deeply suspicious of the entire thing. The timing just seemed a little too convenient.

There were four students altogether and Hotch pulled us aside while they continued on with their experiments, "Ariadne, Reid, since you're both around their age why don't the two of you do the talking."

I side eyed Spencer, cause there was no way I was gonna take the lead. First of all, I didn't possess the polite people skills needed, nor the patience this conversation would inevitably require of me. Second of all, I just didn't want to.

Spencer began talking the minute he realized I wasn't going to, "Ahem. Hi-hi guys. Uh, my name's, uh Dr. Spencer Reid and this is Ariadne Morgan." He turned slightly to motion in my direction as he introduced the both of us. "We're uh, Agents with the-the BAU, the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, which um, it used to be called the BSU, the Behavioral Science Unit. But not anymore, they changed it to the BAU." The more he spoke the worse his fidgeting became and I knew it was only gonna get worse from here on out. "Um, it's part of the NCAVC, the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime, which is also part of this thing called the CIRG, the Critical Incident Response Group, and-"

It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

Except in this instance I could stop this, and I would. "Essentially what my colleague is saying is that you claim to know how the fires were set," I stepped in because lord knows what would've come out of Spencer's mouth otherwise. "We'd like to hear the conclusion you've come to."

And instead of just speaking up like normal people, the only male in the group stood and made his way up towards Spencer. I was a little uneasy about the whole thing, but there was no indication of ill will so there wasn't all that much I could do to stop him.

Spencer had taken to messing around with a spare lightbulb while his mouth had been running away from him and the boy pointed at it once he was close enough, "May I, please?" Sure it seemed like a strange request, but once again, where was the immediate harm in it?

The boy, whose name I wasn't aware of, held the light up towards Hotch's face, "See this? Drill a hole through the side, and fill it with gasoline or whatever's good and flammable. Turn the light on... boom. That is what went down didn't it?"

This was utterly exhausting and completely unnecessary.

"Considering the fact that you're the ones who told the dean you knew how the fire started, I'd assume you'd all be jumping outta your shoes to tell us."

There was a little bit of condescension in his tone that I didn't care for at all. So if he wasn't gonna give us any useful information then he could stop wasting our time.

One of the girls who sat in the very back decided to take over for the group. "This stuff's all over the net." She had a hard time keeping eye contact, which I could understand. "Wanna know how to make a Molotov cocktail that sets itself on fire? Potassium, sulfur, and normal sugar." She giggled lightly, which struck me as odd considering this wasn't a humorous situation in the slightest. "Sugar, sugar, which is-"

"Not exactly plutonium," she was interrupted by the boy who still stood in front of Hotch, "You could get the stuff anywhere."

Essentially what I was hearing was that all these ingredients could be purchased on a broke college student's budget.

The girl who had been interrupted chimed in once again, "Sugar from the supermarket."

Hotch was on the same wavelength as me, "But you don't need to be a chem major to know that."

"Do you think it's a chem student?" The staff member looked a little fearful to be in a room surrounded with said students.

I wasn't going to lie; it would certainly be plausible for the arsonist to be a chemistry student.

"You wanna know what I think?" The boy wasn't getting the hint that he was working on my last nerve and he held the lightbulb to his temple while taking slow measured steps towards Spencer. "I think-"

Snatching the light from his hand, I make it known on my face that I'm done with the games. I'd been forced into a panic, had run into a burning building, and to top it all off, I had incurred the wrath of my older brother.

I was tired and not in the mood.

"If the next words out of your mouth aren't explicit instructions leading to the unsub, we're done here." My ultimatum casts a silence on the room, a nice reprieve for the headache I was developing. The kid looks like he wants to say more, but thinks better of it and makes his way to gather his books.

I'm sure I came across as a bitch, but in reality I'm uncomfortable. My team is surrounded by danger and it feels like we're being jerked around in different directions because nothing seems to be adding up. My tolerance for bullshit isn't high on good days and today is not a good day.

Perhaps under different circumstances I'd be more patient and willing to hear this kid out. But not today.

* * *

Taking the giant hint I had given, the boy decided it was in his best interests to leave the rhetorical questions behind and escort us back to our main group. Apparently there's something about how the elevators don't work after a certain time and need a key, but to be honest I may have tuned out during that conversation.

It wasn't until we were back in the room the dean was letting us work out of that I started to come back to reality. Apparently the unsub had called the hotline directly while we were gone. Unfortunately it was an automated voice, so we still didn't have much to go on gender wise for this unsub.

 _Karen. I do this for Karen._

I mean we had a name now, but realistically, how many people on this campus were going to have the name Karen?

Probably a shit ton.

Hotch turned to face Derek and I, "Is the tape clean?"

No offense to Hotch, but how in the absolute fuck was I supposed to know that information? I don't know what he thinks my hearing is like, but I'm not a goddamn robot. "Dunno, that's really not my area of expertise. I can call Penelope and ask her to run a check on it if that would help." Hotch nodded in response to my offer before walking away. Which was cool because who needs words anyway?

Since there were computers pulled up all around me it was easier to just call Penelope through video rather than phone. Behind me I could feel Derek draw closer, which shouldn't have been surprising in the slightest. He never passed up an opportunity to talk to our girl.

A real smile graced my lips as her face popped up on the screen, "Hey bambola, sei straordinariamente bella oggi."

Her eyes lit up as she gushed, "Thank you my love!" Inside I was laughing because there was no way Derek could beat me when it came to flattering Penelope Garcia. It was kind of like a little sibling rivalry thing we had going on with her. "What can I do for you today?"

Knowing that I had already pulled out all the stops, because there was really no way he could top me when I used Italian on her, Derek got straight to the point, "Hotch wants to know if the recording of the voice is on a clean tape."

"I can put it through some audio filters."

Derek sighed knowing that Hotch was going to want a little more than that, "Look sweet girl, we need as close to the real voice as you can get, and anything that might be in the background. Can you do that?"

"Okay, you know how on Star Trek when Captain Kirk asks McCoy to do something totally impossible, and McCoy says 'Damn it, Jim I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker?'" Penelope was twirling a pencil between her fingers while looking at the two of us.

Derek leaned in with his head cocked to the side, "You telling me not to expect a miracle?"

"No," her lips then curled into the most wicked smile and elation rushed through me. "I'm saying I'm not a doctor."

Derek chuckled and I was reminded of why I loved this girl so much. My brother sent her a parting wink before he went to cut off the call, "Atta girl."

* * *

Derek had gotten stuck with Karen duty with Greenaway and I was not envious in the slightest. Having to go interview every single chick with that name was a class A nightmare that I avoided like the black plague. The only downside was that now everyone else was busy with their own job and I was the odd man out with nothing to do.

I mean I was supposed to be resting, but I wasn't even injured in the first place so I didn't think I needed to heed that advisement. I decided to take a walk around since sitting in one room with nothing to do was quickly making me lose my mind.

I'd only been walking for a couple minutes when I ran into Gideon. I was surprised before I remembered that he was supposed to be with Spencer. That's when my stomach dropped. "Gideon, where's Spencer?"

Gideon did his best imitation of a grin when he noticed my look of concern, "He's with Greenaway and Morgan, I just needed to get some fresh air. Would you like to join me?"

My body untensed in relief and I slowly made my way to Gideon's side. Normally I always enjoyed Gideon's presence, he exuded this peace and quiet that was hard to find anywhere else. However after what happened a couple hours ago I wasn't sure about being alone with him, I had no desire to talk about earlier and I feared that he might.

It wasn't like I could outright say I valued his life over a strangers' and that's why I dragged him away. I didn't want to see the look on his face if I told him I'd do it again in a heartbeat because that teacher was an acceptable loss.

Gideon had stopped to read one of the boards that highlighted student work while I was busy internally worrying. I didn't have time to look at what caught his eye because a door to the left of us clicked open suddenly. On instinct I reached back to grip the handle of my gun, but Gideon reached out to lay a hand on my arm as a deterrent. I didn't think there was anything wrong with being extra cautious but I suppose Gideon didn't want me waving a gun around inside the college without proper cause.

A student in a yellow shirt and khakis walked through and I dropped my arm in acquisition. He took one look at Gideon before recognition sparked in his eyes, "Hey, I didn't scare you again did I?" I guess while the rest of us had been busy Gideon had made some new friends. "Um, sorry if I did. This is one of the buildings on my patrol."

It was cute that hall monitors still existed in college. He clearly wasn't campus security, seeing as how he lacked any sort of weapon beyond a whistle, and he didn't really look big enough to take someone down.

Removing his hand from my shoulder, Gideon nodded back towards the board he had been looking at prior to the interruption. "Just lookin' at the board. The three body problem. You know what it means?"

"Uh, no. No idea."

I knew without having to look that I wouldn't understand either. Afterall there had been a reason I chose not to go to college after graduating high school by the skin of my teeth.

But I guess Gideon knew what it was after all because he explained it just fine. "It's physics. It's one of the great mathematical mysteries." His eyes drifted to the kid's chest, "You broke up with her. No more necklace."

This conversation was starting to get into that level of personal I typically tried to avoid.

The kid looked down and nodded, "Yeah, I kinda wanna date someone else."

Although I didn't understand the reason we were talking about his personal life, I had to hand it to him. Breaking up with someone when you no longer felt the same way was a hell of a lot more respectable than cheating on them.

There was calculation in Gideon's next words, especially considering we were looking for a Karen. "What's her name?"

"Brian."

 _Huh._

Well alright then.

"Oh." The surprise on Gideon's face is evident and I watch in amusement as he stutters through a response. "Well, that's, uh-that's a pretty good reason. She take it alright?"

The hall monitor was finding the sight of an uncomfortable Gideon as entertaining as I was. I could now say I was fully invested in this conversation.

However I wasn't expecting to see desperation lingering in the edges of his eyes just past the humor. My smile dropped as I tried to get a reading on the kid.

"Yeah." There was a pause as he swallowed before collecting himself, "Yeah, other than telling me that homosexuality's a sin, and that I'm going to incur the wrath of God."

And just like that my heart cried out for this boy.

This boy who had been told he had done something unforgivable.

While I was struggling to refrain from asking who his ex was so that I could give her a piece of my mind, Gideon was busy connecting dots in his head. "The wrath of God..." Something must have connected because he quickly took off down the hallway. Under normal circumstances I would have followed, but there was something I needed to clear up first.

I couldn't just let the kid walk around with those thoughts in his head.

Not when I knew exactly how he felt.

Like the flip of a switch, I could see remnants of Maria in him. I remembered how her skin used to gleam in the sunlight, the way the sound of her laugh never failed to light up a room.

I remembered the innocence of falling in love with her.

This kid in front of me, who was honestly probably around my age, looked as though he truly felt he had done something wrong by being himself.

But love wasn't wrong.

"Hey kid," I caught his attention with my gentle tone. I softened my gaze and gave him a rare genuine smile, "God has never once struck me down for loving another woman. Love isn't wrong, there's no guidelines you have to follow for it. And there's certainly no cross you have to take up to repent for it."

There was a mutual understanding that connected us.

That feeling of having to hide who you loved because you were told it wasn't _right_. That ache which settles into your bones when people say you're not _normal_.

The relieved smile he shot my way filled my chest with warmth. Maybe I was the first person to ever tell him he wasn't fundamentally broken and he didn't need to hide, or maybe I wasn't. Whatever the case, I hoped that if he ever questioned himself, he'd remember my words and find comfort in them.

When I turned to chase after Gideon, I wished the kid would be able to find the strength needed in order to chase his happiness, latch onto it with both hands and never let go.

Because way back when I had loved a girl and now a boy had caught my eye.

It had taken me a long time to realize there wasn't anything wrong with loving a person for who they were instead of what body they came in.

* * *

Gideon had been moving at the speed of light, so when I say I caught up to him what I mean is that I made my way back to the room where he was already writing his findings on a whiteboard. At first it looked like a bunch of gibberish to me but then the rest of the team started going on about religion and fire, and to be honest I wasn't having a single bit of that.

Derek and I weren't really into the whole religion thing. We'd both seen far too much to believe that there was someone out there who supposedly loved everyone. Don't get me wrong, I was all for letting people believe whatever they wanted to believe, so long as they didn't try to shove it in my face.

I pulled out my phone in order to check a couple of my emails while I waited for them to finish discussing. I had a lot of reminders for field reports I still needed to send in and one from Erin Strauss about when to reschedule our meeting.

I was supposed to sit down and talk with her last week but like always, we had been called away and I'd had to cancel.

Field reports were always a pain in my ass and there were times I tried to pawn them off on Derek if I knew they were going to be extensive. But it was either the reports or call the director after every case and I was too afraid I'd forget to make that call, so paper reports it was.

Derek always teased me about my loathing for them, wondering how I ever managed in the military with all the reports I'd have to have given. What he didn't know was that I'd never had to make a formal written report.

My squad had been formed with the specific purpose of doing things that nobody else wanted to do, things that no one wanted to admit or take responsibility for. We had done things, under orders from our government of course, in foreign soil that are categorized as absolute grounds for war.

Documentation had to be nonexistent for our safety.

Which was ironic because I'm the only one still alive and documentation was always the least of my worries.

I finished sending out my responses right when Hotch was splitting us up into groups once more. Him and Gideon would make one team while Derek and Greenaway made the other. Spencer and I got the unique privilege of going through surveillance tapes to see if we missed anything.

I was a little frustrated that it seemed like Hotch and Gideon were going to pair Greenaway and my brother up as partners. I mean yeah, we all worked together but at the same time we all kinda had set partners within the team. Naturally I figured mine was Derek. I didn't know Hotch had been contemplating switching the system up.

Everything in me wanted to be out there with the rest of them, especially after the fiasco this morning, but I couldn't just leave Spencer on his own. Not when he would be so vulnerable. I mean he didn't even carry a gun, that was worrisome considering our current occupation.

"Outside the box." I turn to see what Spencer was mumbling about as he circled the word fire on the board. I could see his frustration in the way he walked and tapped the marker against his palm. Normally Gideon would have encouraging words or some obscure quote that only him and Spencer ever seemed to understand to help ease the mounting tension.

But Spencer was stuck with me and all I had were shaky morals and a sharp tongue I hid behind.

Anything naturally kind about me seemed to have been burned out years ago in my small Chicago home. The best I could do was pretend to be someone else, "Hey, just remember what Gideon said about taking your time to get three steps ahead."

It was as encouraging as I was gonna get, and maybe if I was lucky it would halt his pacing. Cause if I was being honest, that shit was making me a little dizzy.

And judging from the way he snapped his fingers in my direction before rushing towards the computer, I'd say I did something right. Being as bored as I was, I made my way over to him and rested my chin on his shoulder as I watched him replay the earlier video with the two boys over and over again.

I know it's not a good idea to be this close to him, especially given how I feel, but I never really have been the smartest person. Add to the fact that there have been times he's been very clingy, and I was fucking screwed.

Spencer zooms in on the door handle and the two of us watch as it rattles, something we hadn't noticed before. "Three times," he whispers in surprise. I was more surprised that Spencer seemed to have eagle eyes, cause I hadn't seen that in the slightest without the zoom in.

"And the genius strikes again." I plant a chaste kiss on his cheek and immediately regret it. It was like my mind was at war with my heart. My heart wanted to be something more and my mind was telling me to walk away completely.

Because at times it felt like falling in love with Spencer was a betrayal to Maria.

I quickly let go of my friend and backed away from him as those feelings made themselves known once more. My hands curled into fists when their shaking became evident and I was forced to shove them behind my back when he spun around in his chair to look at me.

"I want to go check on something else."

I nodded in approval, it made sense that he would want to check the actual room to see if there was anything we had glossed over. "Okay, I'll hold the fort down here in case the team comes back." Obviously it wasn't a good idea for me to be around him at the moment. I needed a little time to collect my feelings because right now I could feel it all unraveling.

Unraveling meant unhinged, and unhinged meant the truth.

That was not a path that would be good for anyone.

He seemed a little surprised I wasn't going to come with him, but he quickly put it aside and thought nothing of it. I managed to keep the small smile on my face until he left the room. As soon as the door shut, I let go of the steel grip I had on my emotions.

My hands were still shaking when I brought them up to my face. The privacy of the room afforded a silence that my mind took every opportunity of filling.

 _Mari, hey wake up!_

 _C'mon you're just fine._

 _It's just a little bullet wound, it's not even that bad._

 _Maria Santis you open those eyes._

 _You swore forever, don't you dare break that promise._

 _Mari?_

The love of my life was dead because I couldn't save her.

What right did I have to fall in love again?

I turned and slammed my fist into the wall behind me, welcoming the pain that radiated through my hand. I blinked back tears and watched as red blossomed against my skin. A color I had grown so familiar with once again filled my senses.

It was all so bittersweet.

I really should've expected this. After all I made it such a point to limit what I said about Maria, knowing that this was the typical response of dwelling on her for too long. But something about that kid told me he needed to hear it, regardless of how it would affect me.

Right now I knew there was only one way to get me through this untimely episode, and that was Derek.

Yanking my phone from my pocket, and ignoring the blood I was smearing on my pants, I hit the first number on speed dial and closed my eyes as it started to ring. I really hoped he'd pick up cause I didn't know what I'd do if he didn't.

Luckily for the sake of my own sanity my brother was not one to stray from his phone.

"Hey, what's up?"

The sound of his voice washed over me like the tide, and I sucked in a sharp breath as I clutched the phone tighter in my relief that he answered. Unfortunately the sound hadn't escaped his notice.

"What's wrong Ariadne?" His voice became stern in an instant and I could almost picture the way he would stand, all tense and brooding at the notion that something was amiss.

There's a second where I debate playing it off, telling him that I was running around the campus and what he heard was simply me regulating my breathing. I could tell him I hip checked myself against the table the minute he picked up the phone. I could give him a thousand and one excuses for that small inhale, all of which would put him at ease. But I was kind of tired of the lies for today, "Turns out today's not such a good day after all big brother."

When I was first discharged my life was made up of good days and bad days. Now everything's been blending into one. I was either on top of the world or curled up on the floor. I wish someone would have told me that sacrifice really wasn't worth the pain.

"Do you want me to come to you, or you come to me?"

I closed my eyes and smiled. He was asking if I wanted to talk about it or if I simply wanted to stick by his side. There was no ultimatum with him, just the simple assurance of companionship should I require it. "If it's not too much trouble I think I'll stick with you for the rest of the case." I paused but decided I really couldn't help but throw out one last barb, "That is if you think Greenaway can behave herself in my presence."

"Listen, I'm not getting in the middle of you two. I like my extremities where they are, thank you very much."

I laughed and left the room, not bothering to tell Derek I already knew exactly where he was. After all the tracking devices are supposed to be a secret. As I made my way down the hall, listening to my brother's voice fill the space, I left the echoes of my broken cries behind to fade in the silence.

* * *

I knew Derek could see the spots of blood on my jeans from where I had wiped my hand off when he saw me, but I offered no answer and he asked no question. He placed an arm around my shoulder and let me lean into his warm embrace, and it was enough.

Greenaway had shot us a questioning glance at my entrance but it seemed that even she was smart enough to understand when to keep her mouth shut. As I sat and watched them finish interviewing Karen after Karen, I realized that I probably should have let Spencer know I wasn't going to be in the room when he went back. It was an oversight on my part, but if he was concerned I knew he'd call.

About a half an hour into watching Greenaway and Derek tag team the interviews, Hotch called to let us know that they figured out the identity of our arsonist.

Clara Hayes.

The chick from the team of chem students who told us how to make a Molotov cocktail.

I'd been slowly learning not to be surprised by who the unsub's turned out to be, but sometimes I really couldn't help but be a little shocked. Besides the awkward timing of her laughter, she had seemed pretty normal.

Because the three of us were closer, campus security met us and we made our way to Clara's apartment, abandoning the rest of the girls waiting to be interviewed. It wasn't too long of a journey and I was grateful for the reprieve from my thoughts, although some might not think that catching killers is a good coping mechanism.

Although we were the agents, the campus security officers insisted that they be the first to enter the apartment, for reasons I didn't understand but didn't care to find out. Derek was feeling some type of way, and after my vague phone call I couldn't blame him, so he was being an overprotective bastard and kept me behind him at all times.

Once we finally entered the room there was a moment when we all stopped in shock.

What in the absolute _fuck_?

The entire room is covered in fire paraphernalia. Newspaper articles about fire, photos of fire, quotes of scriptures about burning in hellfire. There was not a fire free spot anywhere.

It was absolute insanity.

Derek lets out an involuntary disbelieving chuckle upon further examination, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me. OCD? I'm thinking more like Omg."

Had this been a different setting and it was just the two of us, I totally would have laughed at that.

"Omg?"

I look over at Greenaway, not bothering to hide my confusion. How in the world could she not know what that stood for? What, had she been living under a rock her entire life?

"Oh my god," Derek and I both clarified. It still boggled my mind that it needed to be clarified in the first place, but whatever.

Derek was quick to get Hotch on the phone while the rest of them began to comb through Clara's room. Something didn't sit right with me, the fact that she wasn't here was the first indicator. There was no other reason for her to be anywhere else, so why the hell wasn't she in her apartment?

I can't stop the unease swirling around in my gut, it weighs heavy and thick. Without a word, I slip out of the room and make my way back down the stairs we had to climb to get here. There's a rule; we aren't supposed to go off on our own if we can help it. But my instincts have helped me survive over the years and I learned to trust them a long time ago.

It's those instincts that prompt me to head to the science building.

If I was thinking logically I could rationalize that the science building would have been on the first places to look for a dedicated student who liked to work late. But if that was the case then why had we gone to her apartment first?

I pull out my gun when I enter the building, it was more of a precaution than anything. There's a chance she won't be here, a high chance she won't, but I had to be thorough. The building's abandoned for the most part, something I'm sure had to do with Gideon and Hotch, but as I continue twisting down corridors I start to hear faint voices.

Coming face to face with Hotch's back was not something I was expecting. What was even more shocking was the sight of Clara kneeled down with a lit flare clutched in her grasp.

There's a moment where I glower at his back, because what the fuck was he thinking not telling us that he had located her? A nice long chat about the benefits of communication was something he apparently needed more than anyone else.

I make no effort to mask my footsteps, not seeing the point in trying to hide my presence from either one.

"Clara, you don't have to do this, all right?" Hotch keeps his voice soft, which might have been to take away from the fact that he too was aiming a gun in Clara's direction.

The sound of cries fill my ears and I briefly glance towards the elevator. When I realize there's three different voices coming from it, my jaw clenches.

Hotch has until she moves before I shoot her.

"I have to do this," Clara looks up at us and pleads for understanding.

 _Keep them safe._

"You know it's not rational, Clara. You were trying to tell me," Hotch reaches his hand out like one would when faced with a small frightened animal.

The words don't pierce her and she inches towards the elevator doors, "God chose me to be tested, and now he has chosen them. If I don't do this, something terrible will happen."

The only terrible thing that's about to happen is me having to shoot this kid to save her classmates.

 _Do not fail them._

"What's gonna happen, Clara?" Hotch begins speaking faster, trying to displace her attention from the three she's deemed fit to be tested. "A flood? An earthquake? You know this isn't rational." Hotch knows that he is the only thing saving her right now.

For a moment it actually seems to be working. Clara starts to pull back and scrunch her eyes in frustration as she rocks back and forth, "I know, I know, I know."

"Then resist."

"I can't. They must be tested. God's wrath…"

It's sad cause she actually believes this.

Hotch makes a last ditch attempt to reach her, "Clara you told me it was a chemistry student. You left the message about Charown." It doesn't work and he fails. Maybe there just wasn't anything to reach in her.

His words set something off in her because she continues her chanting, "Charown, Charon, Moloch." It was as though she were making an offering to whatever god she was praying to.

Gideon arises from the other side, behind a sheet of plastic, with his gun drawn as well. He was a little late to the party, but I was grateful for the extra hand.

Clara bends as she prostrates herself on the ground, arms outreached as the flare was forced closer towards the elevator. The cries from within grew louder and more panicked.

 _There are no second chances._

I pulled the trigger the second the tip of the flare crossed the line into the elevator. The sound was deafening in the sudden silence, Hotch's shoulders jolted as Gideon hurried to put out the flare. The three trapped in the elevator screamed when the sharp sound vibrated around them.

When Clara's body slumped over and blood pooled around her figure, there was no regret.

I tucked my gun away and walked past Hotch to step over her body to check on the other kids. Although the sight of their dead classmate was gruesome, there was relief in their eyes. It came close, but they were alive.

Finally taking a moment to look down at Clara's still body I couldn't help but think it was a shame she was so young and so troubled. But it wasn't my job to find the good in people, to try and save them from themselves.

My job was very simple, protect this team from any and all threats. I had killed to protect in the past and I would do the same now without another thought.

Callous as it sounded; Clara Hayes was nothing more than another name on that long list.

* * *

The plane ride home was one of the more quiet ones. It had been a long case, one that involved minimal sleeping, so most were making up for that now. Only Gideon, Spencer, and I remained awake. I was sitting beside my friend with my feet up in his lap as I watched him try to beat Gideon in chess. He didn't seem to notice I was using him as a personal footstool, but I don't think he'd mind either way.

Spencer clears his throat and a small satisfied smile appears on his face, "Check in three."

"Not bad," Gideon says softly as he looks up at him. The look of satisfaction on Spencer's face doesn't last very long because Gideon's moving a piece on the board and crushing his dreams, "Checkmate. Don't worry you're getting there."

As Gideon sets the game back up I look over at my brother who looks very comfortable passed out in his chair. He hadn't been happy about me slipping away, but he couldn't say anything since everyone had done the same at least once before, especially him.

My mind shifts to Clara and the look on her face as the bullet ripped through her chest.

Hotch thought he could save her, protect her from the end she had written for herself, but that had been wishful thinking. Clara was gone the moment she decided to set those fires, for her there was no going back.

She wouldn't allow herself to be talked down and that's what sealed her fate. Gideon could send as many regretful looks in my direction as he wanted and Hotch could lecture me for however long he deemed fit. Neither would ever change my mind.

Yes, two people died today as a direct action of my decisions. I wouldn't deny that nor would I make an excuse for it.

The teacher Gideon couldn't save and the girl who couldn't let herself be saved.

Both would haunt me in the morning hours just before the sun rose in the sky, but neither would stop me from protecting this group of people.

The consequences were high, but I was willing to pay them.

* * *

Translations:

Bambola- Doll

Sei straordinariamente bella oggi- You look exceptionally beautiful today.

Mi dispiace, non volevo spaventarti - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Won't Get Fooled Again**

 **Ariadne Pov:**

 _God whoever is calling me is getting a foot up their ass._

I reach my arm out to grab the phone that woke me up out of dead sleep. Actually being able to get a full nights rest is rare for me. Typically the nightmares keep me awake, but ever so often there's a night where they don't come and I get some actual sleep.

Until someone decides to call and wake me up that is.

I grab the phone and hit answer without looking to see who it is. "Somebody better be dead for you to be calling me this early."

I hear chuckling. Must be my brother, he's the only one who never takes my threats seriously.

"Close, almost dead but not quite. There's been a bombing and we got called in. Time to wake up sweetheart."

Why can't people ever wait till it's a normal hour to have a crisis? I sigh and sit up so I can stretch my back. Looks like I'll be napping on the plane.

"Alright fine. I should be there in about an hour or so. Good enough?"

"Perfect, see you soon" Derek says before he hangs up.

I get out of bed and make my way into the shower. One of these days I might actually get to sleep for a whole night.

* * *

I'm standing behind Spencer as I look at the photos of the bomb fragments that ATF sent over. I'm looking at the same one as Gideon when he says "Pipe bombs, packed in cardboard boxes. Sent through the mail?"

"No that would move them too much. They must have been hand delivered" I say looking up at him.

"The other picture in your hand is of the switch ATF found. Same mechanism for both bombs, mercury activated" Derek goes on to explain.

"What does that mean?" Could someone please remind me how Greenaway got on this team? Because I really can't figure it out for the life of me.

For once this is a question that I can answer, "There are contacts to a detonator on each end of the mercury filled tube. Therefore all someone has to do to detonate the bomb is tilt it." Being in the military I've seen a lot of bombs, even had to make a few myself.

"So they couldn't have been sent through the mail. The bomber had to deliver them himself." Greenaway I see that notepad in your hands. But are you actually writing anything down though?

"I literally just said that" I say unamused.

"Strange way to commit an act of terrorism. Why go to all this trouble to kill just a few people?" Hotch asks, drawing us back to the topic at hand.

"He might be targeting the actual people instead of trying to incite panic like a typical act of terrorism does." It's not much but it's really the only suggestion I can come up with at the moment. It's such a small bomb that is designed for single impact so I didn't think that the unsub would use it for terrorism.

The door opens and JJ walks in and turns on the television, "We got news. This is just a local channel, but the coverage is everywhere now. CNN, Fox, MSNBC, Al Jazeera, you name it."

Whelp there goes our chance to keep wraps on it.

"According to doctors he's badly injured, but in stable condition in the ICU. Now neighbors say that they heard a blast at about 10:30 this morning, and police arrived…" The news woman informs.

"If DHS doesn't raise the terror alert now, they'll look weak." Gideon looks resigned.

Hotch turns to JJ, "Make sure Homeland Security knows that this is everywhere."

Another explosion goes off on the news.

Crap. Maybe it is a terrorist.

"Look like we're going to Palm Beach. Let's meet at the airstrip in twenty" Hotch says before he walks out of the room.

When I had thought about taking a vacation in Palm Beach this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. But I'll roll with it.

* * *

"Bombing occurred within three miles of each other. First victim was a 74 year old widow, Barbra Keller. Two hours after that, Clurman got hit in his driveway, and forty-five minutes later… well we all saw that. Jill Swenson, 34 year old housewife who lived across the street from Clurman. Of the three only Clurman survived." Hotch says as he passes the photos of the victims around on the plane.

"Is there any connection between the victims?" Spencer asks from the seat right beside me.

Hotch turns around from his seat to look at us. "One. Clurman was a partner in a ten million dollar condo development deal in which Keller was an investor, and a few weeks ago, the whole deal went bust."

"Went bust how?" I look over at Greenaway and see her writing furiously into her notebook. What is the deal with that? Does she have memory problems or something?

I'm a little more agitated then normal considering Derek stayed behind to work with the bomb fragments. He has a history in the ATF so it was decided he would stay back and work from home base. I had the option to do the same but seeing as that would undermine the entire reason I was placed on the team I decided not to. However it does make me slightly relieved to know that he won't be anywhere near a potential bomb.

"Went bust as in the land he purchased was on methane. Therefore the condos were never built and the land was rendered useless. Thus creating a lot of angry investors." I decide to answer her question without any sarcasm this time. I know, it seems miracles do happen.

"Maybe one of them was mad enough to take aim at Clurman" Spencer suggests.

"But that doesn't explain why Keller or Swenson were targeted" I point out.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's a little too early to theorize about motive" Gideon adds looking at Spencer and I.

"Then where do we start?" Okay now I really want to see what she's writing in that notebook. It obviously can't be anything helpful.

"Where we always start Greenaway. At the beginning. Like what do we already know about bombers?" I say. Where did she think we were gonna start?

"Mostly male, loners, history of criminal activity. About 50% of all bombings are actually the product of vandalism" Spencer decides to chip in.

"And more often than not, bombers end up accidentally blowing themselves up, so the first suspects you always look for in the bombing case are the victims." Hotch adds.

I look over at Greenaway, "You writing all this down in your little notebook there Greenaway?"

* * *

We finally get to the location where the bomb that tried to kill Clurman was activated. Since there were two bombings in this area I'm scanning every house in sight for a brown package. I don't see any more of them but who knows where they could be placed.

"Before Clurman passed out he told cops that he saw the package sitting on the stoop outside his kitchen door." I'm on the other side of the car with Spencer and Greenaway, so who is Hotch talking to?

"Why didn't it go off until he got to his car? It's like fifty feet away" Spencer asks as he walks around the burned vehicle.

Maybe the dude has impeccable balance or something.

Hotch then goes on to inform us that one of Clurman's investors, Joe Reese, was here when the bomb went off. Apparently the cops have determined that he's no longer a suspect and told them that he saw Clurman get inside of the car with the package.

"So maybe Clurman wasn't receiving a bomb at all. Maybe he was on his way to delivering one" Greenaway oh so helpfully points out.

I look at her and shake my head, "If he was the one delivering the bomb then he would have known how easy it was to detonate and would have handled the package with extreme caution. Also Keller was a 74 year old widow who was one of his investors, I doubt she was a big enough threat to him where he had to go and kill her. Additionally Swenson was his neighbor who was a housewife. What reason would he have to place a bomb on her doorstep?"

The rest of the team just looks at me for a couple moments. "Glad to know you're paying attention" Hotch says with a small smile.

"I'd still like to talk to Clurman. In the meanwhile let's get a search warrant on his house" Gideon says before walking away.

Spencer turns and gives me a proud grin, "You're on your way to becoming a really great profiler Ari."

My heart clenches in my chest. Here he is, so proud of me, and I'm lying straight to his face. I want to tell him the truth so bad, that I'm not actually working on becoming a profiler. That I was hired by the directors to keep tabs on them and neutralize any threat in their path. But I also know that if I tell him he'll never trust me again, none of my team will. I'll have lost another family all over again. And this time Derek wouldn't be there to help me through it. I push the feeling aside and lock my arm around his as we turn and walk in Gideon's direction.

I might lose this one day. This feeling of warmth and safety and acceptance.

So I'll cherish if for as long as I can.

* * *

Gideon and Spencer went to go talk to Clurman at the hospital while Hotch, Greenaway, and I stayed behind at his house to have it searched.

"Agent Hotchner? Detective Morrison, Palm Beach PD. I'm lead on the case." The man said as he walked up to us and shook Hotch's hand.

"Nice to meet you. This is Agent Greenaway and Agent Morgan. Agents Reid and Gideon are at the hospital. I think you meet Agent Jareau at the station house." Hotch says as he motions to Greenaway and I.

"Oh yeah" Morrison tilts his head, "She's taken over the place."

Greenaway chuckled a little, "She does that."

 _Excuse me_? She's known JJ for what? A month? She doesn't know JJ enough to make any sort of statement about her. I glare at her head hoping that she could feel the waves of hatred I was emitting through my stare.

"ATF hasn't found any hard evidence yet," Hotch continues as we all begin to walk into the house. "Just some kitchen timers, tape recorders, and electrical switches."

As soon as we shut the front door behind us a woman makes her way into the kitchen through the side door. She looks at all the officers in the room and looks confused. "Hello? Excuse me!"

"Mrs. Clurman" Morrison whispers besides me. I didn't realize how close he actually was until he did that. Ever heard of personal space detective?

Mrs. Clurman quickly walks over to us, "What's going on here?"

Well ma'am my team seems to think that your husband might have killed two women and put himself in the hospital with a bomb he supposedly made.

Yeah I'm so not telling her that.

"Mrs. Clurman, my name is Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. There's a copy of the warrant on the table. I know that this is hard to believe, but we just need to cover all of our bases. We need to make sure that your husband was not involved in any way." Hotch definitely put it better than I would have.

She gives us the ' _are you kidding_?' look. "Involved? My husband's in the hospital with his leg blown off. What are you talking about?!" She starts to lose it by the time she's finished.

Okay time to step in. I'm not good with strangers who start crying.

"Mrs. Clurman I understand that you're upset, but the sooner we can talk to your husband and clear him the sooner we can find who is responsible for this. I know that this is a very stressful and difficult time for your family and as soon as we get this done you and your husband can move on to begin healing."

She takes a breath and relaxes a bit before she nods her head. Great, crisis averted.

"Agent Hotchner? We found something" An ATF agent says from behind us.

Not gonna lie, I'm shocked at the news.

The ATF agent leads us down to the basement where the others are surrounding a tool case with different supplies and a book entitled "The Anarchist's Companion".

Hotch looks up at Clurman's wife, "Mrs. Clurman do you know anything about this?" By the look on her face I'm gonna go with a no.

Was this man really stupid enough to make a bomb and then proceed to accidentally detonate it, resulting in losing a foot?

I turn and head back upstairs with Hotch and Greenaway. I continue to watch as ATF search for anything else that could tie Clurman to making the bomb. I notice Greenaway grab a picture and walk over to Mrs. Clurman, talk with her, and then walk back over to Hotch who just got off the phone.

"Look at this. This is their nephew in Texas, and according to Mrs. Clurman he was staying with them for a month and left last week" I can hear her say.

"Mercury switches are a little sophisticated for a twelve year old kid." Normally I would be all about Hotch disproving Greenaway's ideas but I see the point she's making and I agree with her.

I think I just vomited in my mouth a little.

"I'm not saying he's the unsub, but boys his age like to blow stuff up." She may have the right idea but I'd still like to smack the smug look off her face.

"I'll call Morrison. He'll contact local PD in Texas, he'll pick up the kid and talk to him." Hotch then pulls out his phone to do just that.

I pulled out my phone to check everyone's GPS. Derek's was back at Quantico with Penelope's. JJ's was still at the station and Gideon and Spencer's were headed in her direction.

Okay, time to go. With a bomber on the loose no place is safe.

* * *

We met back up with Spencer and Gideon at the police station. All of us, including Morrison, congregated into what looked like a classroom.

"Morgan emailed these over." I did what now? "The three on the left are the bombs from yesterday. The one on the right's from the evidence room at Quantico." Ah I got it now. Wrong Morgan.

"They're all identical. Made with steel reinforcement rods" Spencer said while studying the photos. I swear I've seen this before. The setup seems very familiar to me for some reason.

"Adrian Bale." My head snaps over to look at Gideon who is leaning down staring at the photo intensely.

How can that be possible? The man is doing life in federal prison. "Who?" Morrison asks stupidly.

"He uh held our agents in a standoff in Boston last year. He took out six agents and a hostage with one of his bombs" Hotch decides to answer.

I was extremely lucky that all of my team had safely made it out of that one. After the bomb went off I checked all seven bodies to ensure that none of them had been Derek. I had been panicked and disoriented at the time.

"So you're thinking he's behind this?" No Greenaway I do not. The man is in federal prison, if he is behind this he would have to be some sort of genius. Which he is not.

"He's in prison so it's unlikely. He's got some kind of a cult following though. Like Charles Manson. It could just be a copycat." The whole time Spencer was talking I was watching as Gideon sat down and drank some water. I hope he's going to be able to handle this.

"There's one way to find out. Let's put the screws to this guy" Morrison adds, like he's going to march down to the prison himself and demand answers from Bale.

Unlikely.

"No, no, no. Bale's too smart. If we want information from him we have to handle him carefully, and even then you have to assume that road will lead nowhere." Gideon's tone of voice makes me worry. I hope he doesn't think he'll be going to talk to Bale alone.

"You're saying the connection to Bale doesn't help us at all?" No Morrison that's not what he said in the slightest. "No. I'm just saying let us handle Bale." If I have anything to do with it Gideon won't be getting anywhere near Bale.

"Look we just heard from local Texas PD. You were right about Clurman's nephew" Morrison says turning to Greenaway. "He admitted the bomb stuff was his, which is great for the Clurman's, but it leaves us with zero suspects. So what do you suggest my men do now?"

"Typically the next step is to proceed with the profile. Which is, if I'm correct, finished." I say looking over at Gideon.

"That it is" he says nodding at me, "If you would gather your men we can give you the profile."

* * *

Spencer and I were in the back while Gideon was giving the officers and detectives the profile. Spencer was sitting on one of the tables and I was standing in between his legs. Since he is significantly taller than me he could slouch and still see above my head.

Greenaway looks over at us with a raised eyebrow. Stare all you want Greenaway, you'll never get your claws into this team. They'll never be comfortable enough with you to the point where you can lay all over them like I can.

Gideon is _my_ teacher. Hotch is _my_ boss man. Penelope is _my_ lady love. JJ is _my_ blonde angel. Derek is _my_ big brother. Spencer is _my_ genius.

They are _mine_.

So _back off_.

I give her one last glare and burrow myself into Spencer some more before I tune back into the profile Gideon's giving.

"When we're dealing with a bomber we're talking about someone who's non-confrontational. If you bumped into him in a café he'd apologize, even if it wasn't his fault."

Hotch then decides to jump in, "We would classify this bomber as highly organized based on the meticulous design of his bombs. It signifies above average intelligence. He probably has a skilled job, a trade, one that allows him to work alone. That's how he was able to make a sophisticated device without raising suspicion. Furniture maker, jeweler, etcetera."

"Background in explosives?" Morrison asks.

"He might but there's a higher chance that he won't. Bombers typically like to blow things up because it gives them an emotional or sexual release, they're not so concerned with death. This unsub however is targeting specific people. He's not just blowing things up, he's killing people" I explain.

"How do you know he's targeting specific people?" An officer asks turning to look back at me.

Because he placed the bombs on people's doorsteps. Who else does that other than to kill someone?

"By the process of elimination. We know bombers fall into a discreet number of categories according to motive. There's the terrorist whose aim is to spread fear, we expect him to strike in a populous area like a subway. There's the politically motivated bomber who makes a statement by choosing a symbolic target like an abortion clinic. Then there's our unsub. He made bombs designed to kill and like Agent Morgan said by placing the bombs on their stoops he was choosing his targets specifically. That tells us he has a direct motive."

Gideon takes over from there, "Somewhere among the three victims, there is a direct motive. We just need to keep digging."

"Thank you, if you have any questions we'll be around" Hotch address the crowd one last time before Gideon and him make their way to us in the back.

"You'll be around. I'll be in prison. Somebody's got to talk to Bale." There it is. Hope he's prepared for a partner.

Because that's exactly what he's getting.

* * *

After a short plane ride we arrived at the penitentiary in Atlanta, Georgia. Gideon didn't think that he needed anyone to come with but Hotch thought it was a good idea for him to have somebody. Spencer was able to come to the penitentiary but was unable to come into the cell because they would only let two of us at a time.

After the breakdown that Gideon had as a result from Bale's actions, there was no way I was gonna let him face this demon alone. He shouldn't have to.

We were put in a small guarded room with Bale. They took our guns so that there was no chance of Bale overpowering us and taking them. Personally I was more concerned about Gideon shooting Bale on sight than I was about the man trying to overpower us. Key word being try.

"You know why I'm here?" Gideon asked softly from the corner he was standing in.

Bale shrugged and tried to act nonchalant. "This guy in Palm Beach, right? The Palm Beach Bomber. Somebody's got to give him a better name."

I clench my fists. This man had made me believe for a second that I had failed to protect my brother. This man in one moment almost shattered my entire world.

It's a good thing they took my gun.

"He uses your bombs, your designs." I don't know how Gideon is being so calm right now. I want to rip this man to shreds and Gideon is standing there with his hands in his pockets.

"Well he should be careful. Those things are dangerous."

I look Bale straight in the eyes, "You'd know all about that wouldn't you?"

"Adrian…" Gideon cuts in. "You can't fool me. If you're involved in this in any way and you do not help me I will make your life even worse than it is now."

Bale suddenly sits up, "Oh, but no, actually, I can fool you because I fooled you before. And now there's another me out there, watching, waiting." He has no self-preservation does he? He's taunting the wrong person. As Gideon goes to sit down opposite of Bale on the bench I stand up straighter and take a step forward.

"You were more ruthless than I expected. If you hadn't pushed that button, you might've had a chance at parole someday."

Bale's jaw clenches ever so slightly, "Yeah" he responds in a clipped tone. "You know, I've thought a lot about that day, and there's one thing I still can't understand. You trusted me. Why?"

"I never trusted you" Gideon quickly retorts.

"You listened to me" Bale insists.

"I made an error. I calculated you wouldn't do it, and you did. Whatever you think, I'm gonna walk outta here and you never will." Score one for Gideon.

Bale's face twists and rage flashes in his eyes as he starts to shift in his seat. "Here's what I think. Sending those Agents into that warehouse, it just doesn't make any sense. I mean I've read your books. I had all those things, what did you call it? Um… a homicidal triad." He points to his head and chuckles. "I even came from a broken family, classic sociopath, so when I had the chance to kill six agents plus a hostage, I mean, just because I gave myself up doesn't mean that I was finished with those people. I still had the remote. You…you should've known that. And the emotional release I would feel by pushing that button…well that was just a little too overwhelming to pass up."

The more he talks, the more I want to take the blade that's currently resting in my bra, because _yes_ I am always prepared, and shove it in his thigh so that he could feel a fraction of the pain he caused others on that day. The pain he almost caused me that day.

"Why didn't you search me before sending those agents in?" He continues to talk. "Why didn't you do your job, Agent Gideon?" Then he looks over at me, "You rushed into that warehouse pretty quick for having been hit by the blowback. What _were_ you looking for?"

It takes every single cell in my body not to pounce.

He'll get his one day. I'll make sure of it.

Gideon motions to the guard signaling that we are done. We are then handed back our weapons and called Hotch while we made our way to where Spencer was waiting. "Bale may be part of this, but he's not in control of it. If he were, he would've taunted me with specifics" Gideon explained to Hotch.

"So what's our next move?" I doubt Hotch would appreciate my solution. It mainly consists of locking me in a room with him alone for five minutes and beating the living crap out of him until he cooperates.

Gideon comes up with a better solution. "I let Bale know the unsub's using his designs. It should bait him into wanting to be a part of it, if he isn't already."

"I'm gonna stay behind and monitor his mail, calls, visitors, and see if there is any contact he has with the outside world" Spencer says cutting in. I don't know how I feel about it. But he's in a federal prison so he should be safe, and I need to get back to the rest of the team since the bomber is still at large.

"Good. Even if he doesn't know the unsub he may want to try and contact him" Gideon says before he walks out.

I turn to look at Spencer and grab his hands in between mine and bring them up to my chin. I wait till he looks me in the eyes, "I know that there are guards everywhere and that this is a federal prison, a place that should be as secure as can be, but I need you to promise me that you'll be safe." Spencer just tilts his head at me confused.

"Adrian Bale already made me think that I lost someone I love dearly. He made me think that I lost Derek. I'll be damned if he ever does that to me again." Understanding dawns in his eyes. "The thought of you anywhere near this man goes against everything in me. So I need you to promise me that you'll be as safe as you possibly can. Don't go anywhere near him, okay Spence?"

He just looks at me with soft eyes and says, "I promise, don't worry." He places a kiss on my hands that enclosed his. "Now go help the rest of the team find this guy."

I let go of his hands and he turns around to walk away. A wave of determination hits me. The sooner we find this guy the sooner I can get Spencer out of here and head back home to Derek.

* * *

It was about an hour before Gideon and I made it back to the station in Palm Beach. Morrison was the one to meet us outside and caught us up on what was going on. Apparently some guy named David Walker was the bomber and Greenaway had almost been hit by his car when she went to go talk to him.

Now I may not like her but she is a part of my team, which I'm tasked to protect, so I'm a little pissed at the guy. I'm not fond of her, but I don't want her to be run over by a car either.

"So far nothing from the search." Not a very hard conclusion to come to Morrison, seeing as how Walker's not in custody and all. The fact that Derek and Spencer are away from me have me on edge at the moment.

"What do we know about Walker?" Gideon asks him.

"He's a quiet career criminal. Spent four years in prison for a series of forged checks when he was in his early twenties. Now he's 46" Morrison goes on to explain. "Past 18 years he owned a store which sold coins, maps, and historical documents. We raided the place as soon as you gave us Walker's name" He said looking over at Hotch. "Most of his inventory was fake, forgeries valued in the millions."

"But the walls had started to close in on him" Hotch interrupted, "We talked to some of his clients and he was in debt up to his ears and promising stuff he didn't have time to forge." You'd think he would bomb the people he owed money to instead.

"Then Barbara Keller found out that the coins he had sold her were fake. She threatened to out him" Greenaway added. And this is a prime example as to why you don't tell people you have dirt on them, they tend to not take it very well.

"And if she had then he would have been discovered he would have done twenty years" Hotch finishes.

"Wait, wait, okay that explains why he went after Keller, but why go after Clurman and Swenson if they had nothing to do with it?" I ask looking over to Gideon.

"He made it bigger than it needed to be in order to throw us off from suspecting him. It was really all just to get Keller." So this bastard killed a stay at home wife and blew off a man's leg just to throw off the cops. It pisses me off, smart on his part, but I'm still mad. This just proves that he's willing to hurt anyone to make sure he doesn't get caught.

"You hear me? I said stop now!" We all turned around when we heard one of the officers yell.

A man walked around the corner with a bomb collar on.

 _Jesus..._

Please…help me" The man said as he opened up his jacket to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest. Every officer, including me, had our guns out and trained on him in an instant. I move in front of Hotch, Greenaway, and Gideon.

"Everyone back now. We need bomb squad in here" I can faintly hear Morrison in the back giving directions.

The man looks absolutely terrified. His hands are shaking, his voice in unstable, and he's sweating profusely. "Please, it's not me" he cries out and takes a step towards us.

"Do not take a step closer. Hands up and slowly walk outside" I say as I lift my gun higher. Whether or not this man is terrified he's not coming any closer to the people behind me.

"I can't. He'll kill me." Unfortunately for you sir that's a chance I'm willing to take.

But apparently Gideon has another idea. "Who will?"

The man starts shaking again, "I don't know. He held a gun to me… put this on me. He said…you'll know who he is."

I see Gideon shift in the corner of my eye. Don't even _think_ about it. Now is not the time to play hero Jason, not this time. He finally gets the message to stop moving forward when I move my foot in front of him as to limit his movements. "Well, what does he want?" Gideon asks from where he's standing.

"A helicopter, a passport. He's watching. Once he gets what he wants he's got instructions to defuse the bomb." The man stutters out while looking at us desperately. Morrison orders snipers to be placed around the perimeter and on the roof. If Walker is outside watching us I don't see how they'll be able to get a swat team outside without him knowing about it.

"Ok, we understand. We're not gonna leave you." The hell you're not Gideon.

"Please…take it off!" he cries out as he places his hands around his neck in what looks like an attempt to rip it off himself.

I lower my gun and clip it back onto my hip and I walk towards the man. "I'm sorry sir but we can't do that just yet. We need to figure out how the bomb is made first, otherwise if we just go to pry it off then it's going to detonate" I explain to him calmly with my hands out in front of me so as to not alarm him.

An officer than comes up and takes a photo of the bomb. The man just continues to shake and whimper at the prospect of having to continue to wear the bomb. Gideon and I stayed with the man while Hotch and Greenaway went into a room to discuss the best way to get the bomb off the guy.

I look at the bomb closely, it seems rather familiar for some reason. I try to remember if I've ever seen anything like it before from my time in the military. Tara, one of the women who was on my team, was our ammunition expert and made it a point to show us how to make weapons if we were ever in a bind and didn't have time for an Evac.

Gideon and I look over at Hotch and he just shakes his head with a lost look. Great, well I guess it's time for plan B.

"What is it?" Looks like this guy saw the look too.

"Sir we need to go outside now" I tell him gently. It's either that or everyone else in this building evacuates.

The man takes a step back from us and his eyes get wider, "No! He said he'd kill me if I went back out. He made sure I told you that."

"Then we need to isolate you" Gideon informs him.

"Why?" The man started to frantically turn his head to look back at Hotch and then us again. "There's nothing you can do? Is there anything?"

"We are going to try sir but we can't take the possibility of anything happening in a crowded area. Do you understand?" The man just nods his head at me as tears begin to well up in his eyes. I feel terrible but there's nothing more I can offer him.

He either goes into isolation, or he goes outside. No ifs ands or buts about it. These are the only choices I can afford to give him.

* * *

They put us all in a backroom where they sat the man in a steel cage with a member of the bomb squad working on the bomb. I was frustrated because if I asked the others to leave no matter how I put it they would ask questions that I couldn't answer. I couldn't come up with a valid reason for them to not be in the room. I decided to stand outside of the cage to watch as bomb squad worked on the man, the others choosing to stand on the other side of the room discussing our next course of action.

"We have a bead on Walker" Morrison calls out to us. "Sniper spotted him in his scope. He's sitting in an office building across the street. It looks like a storage room with a small window facing us."

"We could surprise him" Greenaway suggests. In what world would that be a good idea?

"That's a good idea." What the hell Hotch!? "If he feels cornered he might give himself up."

"Or…" I say butting in, "That could make him angry and he could decide to detonate the bomb. Surprising people who have weapons is _never_ a good idea. This situation could become more hostile than it already is if we spook him." I would know. Every time Derek would wake me up right after I was out of the military I would put a gun in his face not knowing it was him.

Fear makes people do irrational things. Like set off a bomb.

"However bombers are generally cowards" Hotch says as if reminding me of the fact that this man was a spineless coward.

I look him in the eyes, "Do you really want to take that chance?"

"We really don't have any other options at the moment. I'll take a team in and we'll go in through the back of the building. Ariadne you're with me." Hotch says before he leaves the room. I imagine he's finding others to come with.

"Don't say I didn't warn you" I mutter as I go to follow after him.

Hotch had found a small group to come and was waiting by the door for me. I made my way to them and we left to go to Walker's location. I still felt as though this was a bad idea, but there was no way I was gonna let him go alone.

Once we got to the back door of the building Hotch turned to the rest of us, "Remember we have to take him alive. Walker is the only one who can diffuse the necklace bomb. Everybody ready?" I pull out my gun and nod at him as I move in front of everybody so that I enter the building first.

Well here goes nothing.

As we walk Hotch is telling Gideon our every move. If Walker didn't know we were here before he did now. The man does not know how to whisper apparently. Must not have taught that in FBI training. We approached a door labeled 324-C. Hotch and I flattened ourselves on either sides of the door and the other followed suit. Hotch then opened the door and we both peered in from our sides on the wall.

It was dark and all I could see were boxes. Didn't mean Walker wasn't hiding within though. Hotch then pulled out a tiny compact long mirror stick. Where did he get that from? Apparently he had spotted him because he looked over to me and nodded. We turned into the room with guns up and ready. A figure in the back dropped down.

"Walker freeze!" Hotch yelled.

"Ok, please, don't shoot!" Walker cried from his crouched position.

"Hands up and walk out slowly" I commanded. I didn't think he would but I had to try on the off chance he did.

He did not.

"I will shoot and trust me I will not miss." Looks like we're going with plan B. Do or die.

"Ok…" he said bringing his head up. Plan B usually works.

"All right, now put your hands where I can see them" Hotch tells Walker.

"I can't do that" Walker replies. Like hell you can't, it's more like you don't want to.

"If you're hands do not come up in the next five seconds I will shoot" I tell him calmly.

I know Hotch said to take him in alive but from the looks of things that might not be a possibility. Hopefully the bomb squad is having better luck than us.

"My hand is on the remote" Walker quickly says, as if that in itself will save his life. "I told you what I want. The passport, the helicopter, the flight!" Based off of the staggered breathing he has he's becoming nervous.

"Walker listen to me" Hotch tries to reason with him, "You're at the top of the FBI's most wanted list, I think you're smart enough to realize there's no way we're letting you go. But here's my counter offer, a chance to get out of here alive. All you have to do is give yourself up. Just slide the gun across the floor. You have until three. One…"

Hotch begins to count but Walker is quick to cut him off. "You wouldn't let the hostage die."

"I believe in sacrificing the few to save the many Walker. You've already proven that you're okay with killing innocent people, so we can't let you go. If that means that a man has to die than so be it" I tell Walker as I look him in the eyes.

Hotch than begins his count again, "Two…"

"Okay! Okay" Ah there we go. As Walker bends down to slide the gun to us I consider taking the shot. However Hotch wouldn't be too happy with me if I did that.

"I'm coming out. Don't shoot" Walker says as he brings his head back up. There's something not right about this, it's too easy. Walker went through all of this trouble and now he's just going to give himself up? No something's very wrong with this picture. I crouch down and begin to slowly step towards Walker. This man is copying Bale, who gave himself up and had a trick up his sleeve. A trick which killed six agents. There's no way that this guy wouldn't follow in his idol's footsteps.

"Now walk slowly towards me" Hotch commands, "Let me see your hands Walker!" I know he's confused as to why I'm slowly making my way towards Walker but he can't afford to alert Walker to my presence by asking me. As I get closer I see one of Walker's hands reach down past the remote. I than hear the unmistakable sound of a bomb being activated. My entire body freezes and all of a sudden I'm back on a battlefield dodging explosives and running from bullets as I try to get my squad to safety.

 _No._

 _Not again, not again, not ag-_

I bolt upright, spin around, run to Hotch and yell for everyone to take cover. "Bomb!" I yell as I grab Hotch's arm and drag him away from the room. I can hear the other's footsteps behind me but I don't spare them a second glance. I have one goal and only one goal.

Protect the team. No matter the cost.

Even if that cost is other's lives. That is not my concern. We just barely make it to the next corridor to take cover behind a wall before the bomb goes off. The flames are so close I can feel the heat on my cheek, the force of it whipping my hair around my face.

 _Too close…I should have been faster. Now the hostage is going to die._

Hotch and I look over at each other, "You okay there Boss man?"

Hotch just gives me a fond look and nods his head. "Yeah I'm alright thanks to your quick thinking back there. How about you?"

I give him a weak chuckle and bend so that my hands are resting on my knees. "I'm not going to lie, I'm a little winded right now" I admit.

All of a sudden Hotch's radio goes off, "Get out of there now! Now!" We hear Gideon yell. Well you're a little late with the warning there boss.

"Everyone's fine, except for Walker. Ariadne already found the bomb and warned us in time" Hotch says as he gives me a smile.

Good to know it takes a life threatening close call to make the man smile.

* * *

Since Walker blew himself up we no longer had a way to disarm the bomb, therefore Gideon decided that we should try Bale again. Because of the way things went during the last visit both Hotch and I decided to stay in the room with both of them. They brought him and his lawyer up to where we were so as to not waste anymore time.

"We'll start with a transfer, you're in a high security facility now. We can get you medium." It was Gideon and Hotch's idea to negotiate with Bale, I told them I could get the same results after five minutes in a locked room with him. Needless to say they did not approve.

"No I want out of prison. A mental facility" Bale counteracts. Oh hell no.

"You killed six _federal_ agents. You're not leaving prison" I tell him coldly.

"You are asking for something we wouldn't give a bank robber. There are minimum security facilities-" Hotch begins to explain.

"I don't care. I want to be able to talk to people who aren't prisoners, I want to have access…to people, things, the world. I want to connect again." The only thing you're about to connect with Bale is my fist. I had to bite my tongue so that I didn't speak my thoughts aloud.

Gideon's quiet for a while before he responds, "Alright." Damn it, sometimes I hate the fact that Gideon is such a nice guy.

"One more thing…" I whip my head back around to stare at Bale. What in seven hells could he be asking for now? "Without which there is no deal. I want you to confess. I want you to admit that I beat you in Boston. That I outsmarted you. I want you to apologize to the families of those six victims that you got killed. And I want it all in writing."

God as my witness I'm about to commit a murder.

It appears that Hotch has had enough of Bale as well as he stands up and looks at Gideon, "Jason, that's enough." Even Hotch has his breaking point, and Bale just found it.

"If I do this you'll tell me how to defuse the bomb?" Gideon ignores Hotch and looks at Bale.

"Only if you do this" Bale replies smugly.

"Or…" I say as I sit in Hotch's empty seat and wait for Bale to look at me, "Because of your unwillingness to cooperate with the FBI and help to save a man who you inadvertently put in danger I could have you moved to say… Guantanamo Bay for instance." I cock my head at him and smile, "How does that sound Adrian? There's plenty of people to connect with there."

Bales face starts to turn red and I can see a vein in his temple begin to throb when he bares his teeth at me.

 _Bring it bitch_ , I'm not afraid of you.

Bale's lawyer is smarter than him however. She quickly puts a hand on his shoulder to remind him of where he is.

In my territory. A dangerous place for a criminal to be.

Gideon draws Bale's attention away from me, "How do I know you won't lie to me?" You don't, that's the whole point I'm trying to make here.

His lawyer jumps at the opportunity to move to a different subject. "It's all in writing Agent Gideon. If my client refuses to give you the information or if he gives you information he knows to be untruthful, the deal is void" she goes on to explain.

Gideon decides to write the letter. As he does so Hotch and I just sit in absolute silence, occasionally glancing at each other, both of us angry but knowing it wasn't our choice to make. Once he was done Gideon slid the paper over to Bale's lawyer. "I wanna hear it" Bale says. This dude is beginning to run out of buttons of mine to push. Gideon brings the paper back to him and gets ready to read. At this point Hotch has leaned back in his chair clenching his jaw.

"It was a hostage situation-"

Gideon is promptly interrupted by Bale. "No. Don't read it. Say it."

That's it, I'm officially out of buttons for him to push. I reach over Hotch and snatch the paper from Gideon's hand. "Either you take this paper or you walk out of here with no deal. He is not going to read this, which was not a part of the agreement in the first place. And if you don't like it than I would be _happy_ to escort you back to your cell."

Bale looked over at me with a scowl and narrowed eyes, "Do you want the hostage to die? If he doesn't read it I won't tell you how to diffuse the bomb" he tells me outraged.

I continue to stare him down, "Like I told your friend Walker, sometimes people die, it happens. It'll happen today, it'll happen tomorrow, it might just happen in five minutes. And I can evacuate everyone from this building in less than two, so I'm not concerned with others getting hurt in the crossfire. Should that innocent man out there die? No. But will I let him if I need to? Yes. So enough of the games, either you take this piece of paper and be content with that, or you walk out of here with nothing. So what's it gonna be?"

Bale's jaw clenches and unclenches a few times, I can see the rage in his eyes, yet despite that he grabs the piece of paper. _Good boy_.

I can feel Hotch squeeze my shoulder as Gideon takes my hand in his and gives it a couple of loving pats. It my job to protect the team physically and emotionally and the man sitting in front of us was hurting Gideon and I wasn't going to stand for it, hostage be damned. And if that makes me a bad person than fine.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions after all isn't it?

"Four more minutes" Hotch lets us know with a small smile on his face. We all get up and walk over to the window where we watch as Gideon begins to communicate with the member of bomb squad.

"Ok. I've isolated the wires connected to the actual device. We've got one shot at this. It's either the blue wire or the red wire" the guy informs us.

"Which do we cut Bale? Red or blue?" Gideon asks without taking his eyes off the timer. 30 more seconds till it all goes boom.

Bale takes a deep breath in, rolls his shoulders and says "Red." Was saving a life so hard for this man that he had to take that much effort to tell us a simple color?

"You know if you're lying and this thing detonates you get nothing right?" Gideon says finally looking over at Bale. He just nods his head with a blank look on his face. Not typically the response of someone who is about to get out of a maximum security prison. It makes me feel uneasy.

"If we cut the red it's over…you get to spend your time in a cushy asylum, bushes, trees, visits, nurses…and we get this man out of here alive." Gideon tells Bale with a thoughtful look on his face.

"I don't see how I could be any clearer." Okay his attitude is raising an alarm. What was it that Gideon said about Bale telling Walker something? Oh yeah, "Don't let them keep you."

Bale doesn't want to go back to prison and he doesn't want this hostage to live. He's going to let the bomb go off and take all of us including him down with it. His last piece of work. "Red wire right?" I can hear Gideon ask Bale one more time.

"Yes" I hear Bale confirm.

 _Liar_.

"Cut the blue" Gideon and I say at the same time, both Bale and Hotch's heads fly in our direction.

"Are you sure?" the bomb squad member asks. I don't blame him, I would want to double check too.

"Do it" Gideon responds while looking directly into Bale's eyes. We all held our breath while the wire was cut. The timer stopped with four seconds to go.

Immediately Hotch and I each grab one of Bale's arms and we jerk him out of the room and make our way the car to take him back to prison. "Guess you'll never know what was on that piece of paper now will you Adrian?" I taunt him while we pull him through the station.

Dragging him back to the prison is somewhat therapeutic, and I can tell from the look on Hotch's face that he feels the same way.

* * *

Gideon and I took extreme pleasure in walking Bale back to his cell. The inmates were yelling at Bale, almost taunting him. Oh it was wonderful, I guess my little rumor had already spread like wildfire. Once we reached his cell Gideon and I stopped outside the bars and looked at Bale.

"Despite the fact that you lied to us and your deal is void, I made sure to tell all your friends here how extremely willing you were to give up information on your fellow inmates" Gideon tells him with satisfaction. I can't help but let out a chuckle, who knew Gideon still had a few tricks up his sleeve? Bale just nods in frustration and looks at the ground.

"You're a rare bird Adrian. I can't tell you how much pleasure I get just knowing I put you in this little, tiny cage. You might even call it an emotional release" Gideon finishes before he goes to walk off. Bale's door begins to shut and I wait it's completely closed before I begin to talk to him.

"And you might want to be cautious now that there's a little rumor going around about you being a child molester."

Bale's head snaps up at my words and his eyes widen and he quickly grabs the bars. "I'm not! I've never touched a child in my life! It's not true!" As he speaks I can see the terror in his eyes. _Good_.

I tsk at him, "You see I know that Adrian, but they don't. And that makes all the difference in the world. You do know what happens to child molesters in prison right?"

I can see his eyes become misty and he frantically starts shaking his head. "You can't do this! I didn't do anything to you. Why are you doing this to me?"

My gaze hardens and I lean towards the bars until we're face to face. "You taunted and hurt a member of my team. You made me think that I had lost the most precious thing in the world, you made me believe that for a moment I had lost the only family I have left. I want you to feel the same fear that I did. I want you to be afraid for the rest of your life, always wondering when someone's gonna be coming for you. And yes I can do this. I already did." By the end of my little speech I was whispering. Bale looked horrified, I could see his hands shaking on the bars. My work here is done.

I step back and cast Bale one last flitting glance before I walked away, "Have a nice life Adrian Bale…for however long it may last."

Now that that was done with I had a genius to pick up and a brother to get back home to.

A home that nobody was ever going to take away from me.

And if they tried I would burn them to the ground.

" _I am there, waiting, watching, keeping to the shadows._

 _But when you need me I'll step out of the shadows,_

 _And protect what's mine."_


	5. Chapter 5

*Small note: This episode does talk about rape it that is a trigger for anybody. If you watch the show then you probably already knew that but I wanted to make sure to put the warning in anyway.

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Plain Sight**

 **Ariadne POV:**

About two weeks after the Bale incident Spencer's 24th birthday had finally arrived. JJ had called to let me know that she had already gotten him a cake and that she wanted to have a mini party at the base. Typically when a member of the team's birthday comes up I tend to go a bit overboard on the celebrating, I can't help it though. My mom was usually too strung out to remember mine so I make it a point to never forget theirs.

Derek and I had gone out two days ago to buy Spencer this large obnoxious birthday hat that made the both of us laugh. I know that Derek had gone out to get him something else but I wasn't allowed to see it yet. I on the other hand had gotten Spencer a few different things, I like to spread them out throughout the day, typically saving the most sentimental and meaningful one for last.

I had brought the gifts in the day before so that Spencer wouldn't be able to see them and ruin the surprise. Once I made my way into the bullpen I spotted JJ holding a cake and putting candles in it, I quickly walked over to her to look at the cake. "JJ this is great! Thanks so much for doing this."

JJ just smiled and waved me off, "I was happy to do it, Reid is part of our little family so of course he's getting a party." It was still a major adjustment for me when it came to others showing acts of love and affection, I mean of course I did it all the time but I wasn't use to receiving it in return. It was a welcome change.

I turned my head to the side and saw Derek and Spencer get off the elevator so I looked up at Gideon and Hotch and waved my hands at them to hurry up and get into position. Yes, I did make them participate as well. Unfortunately Greenaway was darkening our doorstep this year and was involved in the festivities.

As soon as Spencer walked through the door we all yelled "Surprise!" Spencer jumped a little bit before he smiled and started to laugh. I walked over to him and enveloped him into a bear hug, "Happy Birthday amore" I tell him as I lean back to look into his eyes. They're bright and full of happiness, exactly what I wanted.

I let him go and grabbed his hand to lead him to the rest of the team. Derek must have walked over while I was hugging Spencer, that or my brother could teleport. I had him sit in his chair in front of the cake that JJ had lit and Derek plopped the ridiculous hat on his head. "Make a wish" JJ and I told him. Spencer then began to blow out the candles.

Or, at least he tried to.

"Come on man. Blow baby! Blow!" Derek cheered him on from behind with he grinned. Poor Spencer was trying really hard but they still weren't going out. I laid my hands on his shoulders and squeezed in encouragement.

"I thought you were full of hot air Reid" Greenaway says with a laugh. Joke or not that shit was rude. One of my hands flew off of Spencer's shoulders and collided with Greenaway's midsection. She jolted and turned her head to glare at me.

"Sorry, I twitched" I give her a sickly sweet smile in return. I put up with enough from her already but I draw the line at her doing or saying anything that could ruin Spencer's birthday. Derek continues to laugh and urge Spencer to blow out the candles.

Even though JJ is laughing she decides to end the joke, "They're trick candles Spence ok. They're gonna come back on every time." Spencer continues to try to blow them out though.

"Oh, mommy to the rescue" Derek says in a baby voice, a chuckle bursts out of me.

It's enough to make Spencer abandon the candles for a moment, "Mommy?"

All of us just continue to laugh and JJ begins to cut the cake. Spencer turns around and notices Gideon standing on the railing behind us and decides to go talk to him. I see Hotch by the phone, which probably means that we have another case. I sincerely hope not, I don't want Spencer to have to work on his birthday.

"Can I take this hat off" I hear Spencer ask from behind, I quickly whirl around to face him and Gideon.

"Don't you dare Spence! Derek and I worked very hard to find the biggest one we could. Wear it with honor" I say as I point a finger in his direction before turning back around to help with the cake. My hearing definitely improved from my time serving, we had to make sure to listen for a lot of different things. Some sounds meant the difference between life and death.

"Do you know that Ari and JJ are the only people in the whole world who call me Spence?" I can hear Spencer inform Gideon.

"That's cause I've trademarked your ass. Now come get some cake festeggiato (birthday boy)" I say without turning around.

"Yeah man its really good, JJ chose well with this one" Derek adds from beside me.

"What are you saying? Why can't you just speak in English?" Greenaway snootily said from out of nowhere. Fighting the urge to shove the cake in my hands in her stupid face is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. From the looks on JJ's and Derek's face they seemed to think it was a little rude as well.

"Italian is my first language, I've been speaking it all my life. That's like asking someone from Mexico why they need to speak Spanish. Se parli mai con me così ancora, spingerò il piede fino al tuo culo e ti soffocerai (If you ever speak to me like that again, I'm going to shove my foot so far up your ass you'll choke on it)" I spit out.

"Non piu (no more) Ariadne. Just leave it, you're fine" Derek says as he nudges my shoulder. The only thing I regret is how my attiude for Greenaway makes my team feel a little awkward. I suppose I could try to let some of my anger go, the last thing I want is for the rest of the team to think they need to choose between Greenaway and me.

 _Because they might choose her..._

I quickly shake my head to get rid of my thoughts. My team is my family, they would never abandon me. I quickly handed Derek and Spencer a little plate with some cake on it, when I get like this distraction is key.

"Sorry guys party's over" Hotch says interrupting the rest of us. Just like I feared, Spencer's going to have to work on his birthday.

* * *

We are all gathered in the conference room waiting for Hotch and JJ to inform us of what's going on. We don't have to wait long because after about five minutes Hotch came in and announced that we were going to San Diego.

"Not for the surfing huh?" Derek quips from beside me. I think our sense of humor might just be genetic at this point. I raise my hand to give Derek a high five. Sure it's not exactly the best time and it may even seem a little insensitive but that's just the way I am, and the team already knows and accepts that for the most part.

"They're calling him the tommy killer" JJ says as she places photos around us, "six women raped and murdered in their homes during the last week."

"Six in three weeks is a lot, this guy's gotta have a pretty short fuse" I say as I look at the photos JJ put in front of me. "And it's seems to be getting shorter, the dates on these photos suggest that the first two were only eight days apart, and then the last four within two weeks."

"Rapid escalation" Spencer says from the other side of me, "Do you think he's regressing to a psychopathic frenzy?" Spencer should be eating cake and opening gifts right now, not trying to figure out the motives of a serial killer.

"No he's too controlled for that" Hotch answers and then gives us all a minute to look over the information. "See you on the plane" he says before standing up.

"Why the tommy killer?" Derek shouts out before Hotch can make it to the door.

"You know the rock opera? Well this unsub glues his victims' eyes wide open." All of us look up at Hotch's words and exchange disgusted looks. There are some truly sick people out there.

"He wants them to see him" Spencer says disturbed.

"And feel him" Gideon adds. A shiver runs up my spine, for some reason I have a really bad feeling about this case. I shake it off and leave the room to go collect Spencer's gifts. I guess I'll be giving them to him in San Diego.

* * *

Lately JJ had been able to come with us on the cases which was a bittersweet thing for me. I was ecstatic to be able to spend more time with her but by coming she was being put in danger along with the rest of us. The fact that she mostly stays at the station of wherever we are is the only reason I haven't called the directors to put in a request that she be stationed at Quantico permanently.

I was sitting next to Spencer behind everyone else since Derek was sitting in a one seater. The jerk knew I liked to use him as a pillow and yet he moved away. I can hear them discussing the case and going over more of the photos taken, JJ was on the couch opposite of us on the phone with the station letting them know when we should be arriving.

I reached over to grab my bag and pulled out my first gift for Spencer, I didn't wrap this one because I didn't think it was necessary. I fished it out of my bag and tapped Spencer on the shoulder to get his attention. He turned around and I tossed the t-shirt at his face, he froze for about half a second before he pulled it off his face and gave me a playful glare. "If you thought that I wouldn't give you your gifts because we have a case than you were wrong" I say grinning at him fondly.

"I shoulda known that not even a serial killer could deter you" he said as he opened up the shirt to read it. This was one of the more basic gifts that I had gotten him, it was light blue and had 'Registered Genius' printed on the front. Even though it's corny I just had to get it for him, sorta like how Derek and I needed to get Spencer the most embarrassing birthday hat ever.

Spencer put his hand on his face and began quietly laughing just like I'd hoped he would. With our occupation it's hard to find things that bring you joy when you see such horror all the time. "Thanks Ari, I'll make sure to wear it so that everyone else is informed" he says with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"You better. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't brag about you?" Spencer just looks at me tenderly and I know he's thankful for my comment. Even though he never says anything I know that he craves approval just as much as I do, so I tend to try to give it to him constantly.

"This was on the mirrors" Hotch's voice brings us back to the conversation behind us, as does the picture he holds up for all of us to see. "Fair lady, throw those costly robes aside. No longer may you glory in your pride. Take leave of all your carnal, vain delight-"

"I've come to summon you away this night" Spencer finishes without looking at the picture. When he realizes that all of us are staring at him he goes on to explain, "It's a ballad from the late 1600s. A dialogue betwixt death and a lady." Derek and I's eyebrows furrow in confusion while Gideon smiles at Spencer.

"A 17th century ballad?" Greenaway asks apprehensively.

"Hold up, I'm more concerned about what the hell betwixt means and why it's a word." I say interrupting the conversation while Derek just nods his head in agreement. Apparently it's not a good enough question to warrant an answer because the conversation continues on its previous course.

"What kind of person knows this ballad? Are we looking for a literature professor?" Great questions Greenaway, did you get through FBI training with this level of intelligence? Simply astounding, there are no words for my amazement.

Ha. I don't think so.

"Greenaway did you know they made this amazing new thing, it's called Google. People can look anything up and get an answer right away. It's some real new age shit. You should look into it, might do you some good" I state sarcastically. To the side of me I can hear JJ choke on the water she was drinking and as I look over at Derek he tries to look at me firmly but I can still see his shoulders shaking slightly in laughter. I feel a burst of unconditional love for my brother. Knowing that even though I'm being rude to his partner he's still choosing my side subconsciously and not defending her. Then again if she needs someone to stand up for her than she's not in the right profession. If you can't protect yourself than you have no business carrying a badge and a gun.

Greenaway's face takes on an indignant expression and she opens her mouth to retort but Spencer cuts her off. "We're looking for anyone with an internet connection actually." I've noticed lately that someone always cuts our arguments short, typically whenever Greenaway goes to respond. I wonder what that's about.

"You should see what comes in when you type the word 'death' into a search engine." _Ohhh_. I can't help but wince slightly at Spencer's comment. I understood what he really meant but I wasn't too sure that the others would. And by the look on JJ's face I was correct.

"Reid, no wonder you can't get a date" Derek jokingly points out.

Why would Spencer need a date? Is he looking for one? Why would he do that, he has me. I'm good enough company for him…right?

Ah insecurity, my old friend. How nice of you to join the party.

"Reid you stay on the messages, see if there's a deeper meaning" Gideon instructs while drawing detailed eyes on a note pad. The weird thing is he's actually really good at it, they actually look realistic.

Keeping Spencer at the station and not at a crime scene is a smart move. But for the first time I don't know if it's to keep him safe or because I want a break away from him to sort out my inconvenient feelings. I really need to get a grip on my emotions and to do that I need to have a break from Spencer.

Sometimes I wish I could just rid myself of human emotions entirely, that way I wouldn't have to constantly correct my unwarranted jealousy.

"You think they'll ever run out of new things to do to their victims?" My mood darkens at Greenaway's question and for once it's not because of her. There is no shortage of sick depraved things that a person with no conscience is willing to do.

"Well finding new ways to hurt each other is what we're good at" Gideon says absentmindedly.

The rest of the plane ride is spent in silence.

* * *

When we arrive at the task force center at the San Diego police department we are met with a very nervous commander. He introduces himself as Captain Griffith to Hotch while the rest of us immediately begin to set up in our newly claimed stations.

Gideon went straight for the three boards that held the information and photographs on each of the victims while Spencer went were the boards of the quotes from the ballad for each of the victims where located and JJ went to join him. Derek, Greenaway and I went to the boards where the maps were. It made this weird circle of different boards and our team was split up at every station.

"He strikes during the day in upper-middle-class neighborhoods" Derek says as he starts to move to the other boards. I just follow behind him, not really being able to contribute much didn't exactly leave me with very many options of where to go. However I was fairly decent with maps.

"It looks to be about a five square mile radius meaning that he most likely uses a vehicle. Otherwise you're looking for a pretty physically big and healthy male" I point out to Derek. All of a sudden there's movement in the corner of my eye and it seems to be approaching us. I quickly spin around to see a man in a suit. Okay maybe I'm a little on edge, we're in a police station, not exactly a place where the unsub would hang out.

"You wanna see that crime scene? It's still tapped off, the husband won't go back inside" The man tells us. The way he said it suggested that it was a rare occurrence. Well I mean can you blame him? His wife was murdered there, I wouldn't want to go back either. I don't see why that should be surprising.

Derek and I turn around to look at Gideon. It was his call, I really didn't care unless my brother was going. I knew that they would be safe at the recent crime scene, the unsubs don't typically go back since police are always crawling around. "Let's go." Well I guess we're headed to the scene not that I really minded. When I get moody like this I like to stay with my brother, he gives me a sense of comfort that I'm not able to find on my own.

He's like my own personal northern star, always leading me in the right direction.

* * *

"This profiling really works?" I'm sitting in the back of a car with Gideon while Derek sits up front with a map when the officer decides to make small talk. I'm not in a position where I can answer him, seeing as how I really don't know anything about profiling.

Derek spares him a quick glance before looking back at his map, "It's a tool."

"You can tell all about a guy from looking at the scene?" The officer asks while looking at Gideon and I in the rear view mirror. He's either in awe or he's skeptical, neither of which I blame him for. When Derek first told me about what he did it took him half an hour before I got the gist of it. And even after a whole year on this team I still don't understand everything about it.

"Well the scene's only part of it. We also use victimology, precedent, we can usually get a fairly clear picture of the guy" Derek finishes explaining while flipping through the different maps on his lap. I miss the good ole days where you found the bad guy and just took him out. I didn't really want to understand their motives or reasons for killing and hurting others, because no excuse they could come up with would be good enough.

"Our guys went over it pretty well" The officer says almost hesitantly and a hint of pride coloring his words. If your people went over it good enough you would have found him and we wouldn't have been called in. But we were, so what does that say about your guys? I'm feeling particularly irritated today and everything seems to be pissing me off.

Derek lets out a sharp chuckle, "I'm sure they did." If officer clueless over there wasn't in the car I would have totally high fived Derek. He somehow manages to express my feelings without coming across as a bitch. It's truly a talent, one I don't seem to possess.

Before clueless up there can get offended Gideon begins to translate, "Local officers aren't trained to look for the things we look for."

Clueless looks back at us through the rear view mirror. "What's that?"

"The unsub apparently" I mutter from my seat. Derek didn't give any signs of hearing me and neither did Clueless, Gideon however side eyed me with a stern glance. But for some reason I didn't have it in me to feel ashamed. Maybe just a smidge guilty though. Damn it. "Hate, insecurity, fear, anger, inadequacy. They're all things we can pick up at the scene based on the behavior and the process that the unsub went through. And from the process that this guy went through we can already tell that he will not stop unless he is stopped." There I gave a real answer now would you stop looking at me like that Gideon?

In reality I just sprouted off something I heard Derek tell me once.

And what do you know? Clueless just gave me a confused look. I'm Miss Cleo with the nicknames. Soon enough we pull up to the house, which is in a pretty decent neighborhood surprisingly enough. Instead of pulling into the driveway like normal people we parked on the curb. I don't understand the point of having to walk further than necessary, it's really just a waste of time.

God this round of 'figure out your feelings' is gonna be rough. You'd think I'd be better at it by now, seeing as how I do it every couple of months.

I wouldn't say that I'm heartbroken, because I'm not, I mean you can't really be heartbroken when you don't have a whole heart. I just feel empty almost. Like I'm missing something that should be there, almost like a longing for something I've never had. The worst part is that I'm not even really frustrated with Spencer I'm angry at myself for falling for him. I still can't seem to wrap my head around how I even fell in love in the first place. These moments just seem to drain me.

"You increased patrols in these neighborhoods when the pattern was identified?" Gideon's question brings me back to the conversation. I continue to stick by Derek while they continue to walk towards the house, I wanted to link arms with him but he was carrying a folder and looked like he was busy thinking so I decided to leave him be.

"After the fourth victim. Bosses cancelled days off, vacations." Oh I'm sorry, did the deaths of these women inconvenience you officer? I immediately scold myself for my thoughts. This is why I try to isolate myself when I get like this, I become a pretty nasty person to be around.

"Neighborhood full of cruisers and he still struck two more times" Derek's sentence is interrupted by Gideon's cellphone. We hang back and wait for him to answer the call knowing that it must be important since we're on a case.

"Attempt?" I pinch the bridge of my nose, god damn this man is moving fast. "Well we're already at the last crime scene. Let us know if you identify a suspect" and with that he hung up the phone.

"Suspect?" Yeah I'm going to have to stop you there officer, I have a few more pressing questions to ask.

I cut Gideon off when he went to reply, "How far was the last attempt from here?" I could feel my fingers twitching against my leg. I hadn't been taking this trip too seriously but now I had to, I had almost half off my team with me and a civilian. I had to get my shit straight, it's time to push away my pathetic little emotions and do the job I was assigned to do.

"Not too far from the station" Gideon replies as he turns his head in my direction. Huh? Are you telling me that this unsub was stupid enough to do anything near a police station? Well his dumbass deserves to be caught just on principal alone now. Clueless suddenly turns around and begins taking a couple steps in the direction of the car. Where did he think he was off too?

"Hey, hey, hey. Were you going?" Somehow Derek managed to phrase the question is a way that didn't question the man's sanity.

Clueless gave us a dumbfounded look as he pointed his thumb behind him, "Over there."

I crossed my arms over my chest, did the man actually not have any faith in his fellow officers? The attempt was made close to the station, if they didn't already send a squad to go take care of it then they are more incompetent then I thought. "Well units are already heading that way. We can get more accomplished here." It's probably a good thing that Gideon handled responding, considering the fact that Derek and I were looking at this guy like he had lost his mind.

"You're kidding me right?" What part of any of that confused you there Clueless?

"Do you think you're the only officer on duty or something? They just said that the attempt was made close to your station, therefore it only makes sense that they already sent people over there. Are you the only competent officer you're station has, or do you not trust your team? Cause I can guarantee that at least one member of our team is already on site and I trust them a hell of a lot more than I trust your guys. So I can promise you that your presence won't change a thing." Trying to say that without any anger or agitation in my voice was a very hard thing to do. But by the lack of scowls sent my way it seemed I had somewhat succeeded.

"If there's an arrest, what we find here will help you prosecute" Derek added helpfully. Because of the sunglasses on his face I couldn't tell if he was genuinely informing the guy or speaking plainly since the man seemed not to have very much common sense.

"This scene won't be pristine forever" Gideon said as he looked around.

Clueless took the keys out of his pocket and placed them in Gideon's hand, "Guys, knock yourselves out." He must really not trust his people, although I have to say Clueless has some balls. Not a lot of people get chewed out by me and still continue to do what they were doing.

"Hey, wait a minute" Derek says as he walks towards the officer, "The unsub went through the back, right?" As Gideon walks inside the house I stand by the door waiting for Derek.

"The family room. It's the window full of print dust" The guy says as he turns around and jogs back to his car. It just occurred to me he was going to take his car and leave us here. Well that's just fantastic.

"Gideon, I'm going around the house. Ari's coming with me." Looks like my brother has made my decision for me. Although it's probably for the best, he unlike the others knows just what to do when I get like this. In all honesty I think he's just trying to spare Gideon.

I silently follow my brother around to the back of the house, lost in my thoughts. I absolutely hate the fact that I fell in love, I hate the fact that I couldn't stop it or control it either. I mean falling in love is giving someone the power to destroy you, making it so that your happiness is dependent upon another person. I hate the fact that it's unfair, that just because you fall for someone doesn't mean they'll fall for you.

The fact of the matter is that love can break you. It's the kind of break that might not ever be fixable, the ones that come with scars you carry forever. And because you're broken you go looking for more love to try and fix it but it doesn't, it can't. People can't fix you, they can break you, but they can't fix you. It's something you have to do on your own but nobody seems to want to. I don't want someone to look at me and see something they need to fix. I don't want to love because it has the potential to shatter what little shards of a heart I have left.

However it seems that what's left of my heart and my brain have two very different thought patterns.

Which is ironic because one would think that by now my heart would have learned its lesson about falling in love, or just love in general. I thought that after Maria my heart would be too far broken to even try to love again. But yet here I am once again.

I absolutely hate it.

Derek and I walked around the side of the house till we came up to the side window which was already open. I couldn't tell if it was because the officers had opened it already or left it open from the unsub. Derek took off his sunglasses and looked around the window.

"It looks like it'll be a tight fit" Derek says while side eyeing me. Oh great. I'm going to have to crawl through this tiny window aren't I?

"Well Derek I hope you brought your lube cause I don't see how you're getting in without it." Now I know I'm gonna have to end up going through it but that doesn't mean that I can't have some fun before I do. That window looks way too small and it's up too high for my standards. Of course I'm gonna stall.

Derek stops all movement and turns so that his entire body is facing mine. He just stares at me for a couple of seconds, determining whether or not he wants to entertain me.

"Okay, okay, that was a good one I'll give you that. But I'll get you back, just you wait." I just gave him an innocent smile and tilted my head to the side slightly.

"Ohhhh no you don't" Derek said shaking his finger at me, "Don't you act all innocent. You just made a joke about lube, all bets are off now."

I couldn't help but laugh. I could practically feel the sadness and frustration melt away. I am so lucky to have my brother. Sometimes I just look at him and wonder what on earth I ever did in order to deserve him. Derek, Sarah, and Desiree are the only good things that ever came from my father.

I would be lost if they ever decided they didn't need me the way I needed them.

I decide to just get it over with so I take a couple steps back to get a small head start and jump so that my right foot comes down on the windowsill and both hands come to rest on the sides. I then bring my left foot from out behind me to rest beside my right foot before I swing so that I end up standing on the chair below the window.

Whoever designed this room deserves to be fired. The setup is ridiculous.

Once I step off the chair and onto the floor I turn around to smirk at Derek. I'm honestly looking forward to watching him try and get through this window. He's got wider shoulders than me and longer legs. Regardless of what happens it's gonna be funny.

Derek jumps without taking a running start so he ends up with his knees on the windowsill, one hand braced against the wall, and the other hand on the back of the chair in the room.

It's just too much for me and I start cackling.

Here is my six foot something brother who's upper body is hanging out a window and his feet are outside of it.

How could I not laugh?

"Okay. Not that easy to maneuver." Derek says looking around as if his whole mishap with the window hadn't just happened. I however would not be forgetting that for many years to come. "That means I'm a little bit athletic."

"Or he's small. I mean sure he's still have to be able to reach the windowsill but he might be small enough to still slip in without making much noise" I add. Although I'm not too confident in my scenario seeing as how a smaller person might not even be able to reach the window without some type of ladder.

I hear the sound of a door closing upstairs and know its Gideon simply because there is no criminal or killer that is stupid enough to come back to their crime scene while three federal agents are inside.

I follow Derek as he makes his way into what looks to be a kitchen and dining room combined. I notice that there are various vases of flowers around the room. It's such a beautiful house and it's so tragic to think that someone was killed here. This place, this home, which was once someone's safe place is now no more than a reminder of a loss that they should not have suffered through.

This world takes more than we give it and offers nothing in return.

"All right. He messed with something in here." Derek says as he opens up the microwave to check inside before promptly closing it.

"Yes because I too would hide the murder weapon and a list of all my plans in the microwave. Along with my name and address." I couldn't help but tease him. I mean what did he expect to find in there? "I mean it would be great if they did that but you know unfortunately killers have evolved" I snark.

I could hear Derek scoff but he didn't turn around. He knew all too well that engaging me in this kind of conversation would take up too much of his time. Pity, it would have been fun.

Derek opens up the folder filled with pictures and pulls one out. "Broken cappuccino machine. Took the appliances, which are upstairs. Why?"

I know that's he's not talking to me but sometimes it still trips me out. It used to make me so agitated because I thought he was quizzing me or something and I would never know the answer. Although sometimes he does ask me a question and I can't give him an answer because I wasn't paying attention.

Take now for instance. If that were a question that Derek actually wanted me to answer I would have to take a hard pass, mostly because I don't want to know the answer. I don't want to know why people do what they do, I just want to make sure they're off the street.

The rest is just pointless facts to me.

"Why would I take the time?" And there he goes again. I learned real quickly that my brother likes thinking out loud, in fact so does the rest of the team. Derek takes another look around the kitchen before he begins to head off into the second dining room. I just followed after him like a duckling.

Derek walked over to what looked like a weird like of dresser thing that looks like people would put alcohol in. "Here's where I got the china" Derek says while opening one of the glass doors a little wider. Well never mind then. Not the alcohol cabinet. Glad I didn't say that out loud, that would have been embarrassing.

Derek just continues to point at different things and talk about what was taken from there, off in his own world putting together the crime scene in his mind. While he did that I just stood in the corner of the doorway like a useless sidekick.

"Why wouldn't she hear me?" Derek's question brought my attention back to him. I hadn't heard the sentence before but I could guess what it was about. Why didn't she hear him taking apart the appliances in the downstairs kitchen of her own home? Of course I had a couple of guesses of my own.

"She could have been in the shower, watching TV or you know the obvious answer, which would be that she was already dead when he did it." This is one of the very rare times that I'm completely certain that some part of what I just said is right.

"Him doing it after makes the most sense right now" Derek says while looking around the room for the thousandth time. His tone suggested that while he had heard me he was thinking about something else.

I felt rather put out because I actually had a half way decent answer to one of his absentminded questions and he wasn't even paying attention.

What's a girl to do?

There was clearly only one solution to this slight against me.

I waited till Derek had turned so that his back was facing me before I made my move. I slowly crept towards him trying my best to keep quiet before I jumped up and latched my arms around his neck. I brought my legs up so that they were wrapped around his midsection and he grunted from the extra weight. His arms flew back to grab my legs so that I didn't fall backwards onto the ground.

Once he got me situated on his back, which was really just him double checking that he had a proper grip, he turned his head to the side to look at me. "You know a little warning might be nice. I could have dropped you and you could have hit your head Ariadne. You need to be more careful." He said while giving me a stern glance.

I love the fact that he didn't even question my actions, just worried about me getting hurt. "Sorry, next time I'll let you know when I'm sneaking up on you" I say as I let out a chuckle. I probably wouldn't but I wasn't going to tell him that.

I used one of my arms to reach down and grab the folder from the hand that was currently holding one of my legs in place. Once I had it grasped firmly in my own hand I brought it up so that I was holding it in front of his face. "Here you go. Express delivery of disturbing photos for one Derek Morgan" I say while making my voice deeper.

"Oh yes thank you so much" Derek responds sarcastically. Though he doesn't put me down so I know he isn't irritated at my teasing.

I have the best big brother in the world. He lets me have piggybacks around a crime scene because I'm in a bad mood. What other brother would let their sister do that? I'll tell you how many. None.

I guess Derek decides that he's done downstairs so he moves us towards the staircase and begins to hike me upstairs to where Gideon is in the master bedroom.

When we got there Gideon was just standing staring at the TV and I'm not gonna lie it was a tad bit creepy. "She had a workout video on. Step aerobics." He says without turning to look back at us.

"You know if we hadn't walked in right now you would be speaking to air" I quip from my position on Derek's back.

"Step aerobics? With the platforms?" Derek asks as though I had never spoken and was not currently carrying me around. I mean it's kind of nice in a way. I have two people to keep up the conversation so that I don't have to and I also don't have to walk, so it's a win-win for me. "Step up, step down, step up, step down?" Derek says while shifting his shoulders in the same manner.

Hey watch it Derek, you're jostling me around too much, I'm gonna get dizzy.

Gideon turns to look at us, "Where's the plat…" he stops once he sees our positions. I can almost see the thought process leave his mind as he continues to stare at us. I mean by this point in time he really shouldn't be too surprised, I'm always doing unconventional things. After all it was only a few months ago that I carried Spencer in a princess hold after Penelope asked how much I could bench press. Let's just say that Spencer is lighter than I thought because I lifted him with no difficulty.

The man needs to eat more. He's a literal twig.

Derek and I just continue to watch Gideon try to regain his previous thoughts. Derek looked like he could care less if Gideon were to scold us while I was waiting for him to say something. I already had an excuse planned and everything.

"Where's the platform?" Gideon finally gets out. I guess he's gonna breeze past it this time. Now I'm suspicious because that's not something he would typically do. Hotch on the other hand would have probably verbally handed me my ass for doing this at a crime scene.

Gideon and Derek turn to walk towards the bed which means that subsequently so did I. Gideon leans down on the floor and looks under the bed. Once he's done looking for whatever it is he's trying to find he looks up at us from his kneeling position on the floor. "He spent a lot of time here."

"What, so he vacuumed? I mean there's no marks from the platforms" Derek says while looking at one of the picture I held back up in front of him.

Gideon just nods his head in affirmation, "A lot of time."

"The broken things. Ariadne mentioned that she must have already been dead, incapacitated, or busy when he did that." Now I'm leaning more towards that fact that she may have just been dead at that point. "Cappuccino maker from the kitchen, dishes, vases, broken jewelry" Derek goes on to list as Gideon gets off the floor to sit on the corner of the bed.

Okay gross.

Someone was killed on that bed. Why are you sitting on it?

"Symbols" Gideon goes on to say, as if he's not perched on a murder mattress. "'Your riches, gold, garments, jewels bright'" Gideon begins to quote the words that are written on the mirror in what looks to be red lipstick, "'your house and land must on new owners light'" he finishes.

It sounds like someone's bitter about their social standing.

"Forget killing we've clearly got the next great poet on our hands" I mutter under my breath.

"Her riches" Derek says like he's trying to solve a puzzle. I'm going to have to take a wild guess here and say that it might have to be connected to the fact that she clearly has money. I mean look at her house for goodness sake, it's like a mini mansion.

"You ever feel like there's something obvious right in front of you and you just can't see it?" Gideon asks while looking lost in his own world, similar to how Derek looked earlier downstairs.

"Yeah, usually right before a woman dumps me" Derek jokes and I lightly tap his shoulder. We both know the reason most women dump him.

Cause they know they won't be the only woman in his life. Because none of them wanted to compete with me for his attention.

Mostly cause I win every time.

I used to feel bad about it but Derek told me that if they didn't accept my place in his life than it was never gonna work out anyway. I told him the same was true for me, I just didn't tell him the extent of it.

If I ever get into a relationship then they'll know from the get go that Derek is the most important person in my life and that they will always come second to him. The only people that will ever come before Derek will be any future kids that he or I have.

I subconsciously tighten my grip around his neck.

I wouldn't mind having a niece or nephew.

* * *

I decided to walk on my own two feet once we were back at the station. I was fine doing that kind of stuff around my own team but not around outsiders. I didn't want the team to come across as unprofessional because I was riding around on my brother's back.

Spencer darted out from the side of the entrance as soon as he saw Gideon, "The verses" he said while holding up a stack of papers for us to see.

"Found something?" Gideon asked, stopping to look at the papers in Spencer's hands. It looked like it contained a lot of words so I'm going to opt out of this one.

"Uh, not an answer, a question. I found the full text. He's pretty much following it to a T, at least the death side of the conversation" Spencer goes on to explain. "Why didn't he leave them at the first three murders? I mean this ballad is ten verses long, just on the death side. He's got plenty to work with. But if it's not part of his signature, if it isn't something that he has to do for an emotional reason, then, I mean, why start?"

Gideon looked at Spencer for a couple more moments before he got this look in his eyes that he gets whenever he's onto something. He then turns to look behind Derek and I. "JJ" At his words all of us turned around to see her sitting at one of the desks. "Find out when the press ran the first story on this unsub."

"When?" JJ asked Gideon confused.

"After which unsub." He clarified.

JJ just nodded and reached over to pick up the phone on the desk in front of her. At this point I was the one confused. I didn't know how on earth she was going to find this information. Like how did she just pick up the phone and know which number to call immediately? I would have thought that she would at least have to look it up first.

"What're you thinking?" Derek asks looking at Gideon skeptically.

"He wasn't getting enough attention" Gideon explains as he moves his hands around for emphasis.

Spencer nods his head at Gideon's words, "The police departments sometimes don't even realize they're looking at a pattern."

"Yeah until people like us slap them in the face with it" I mutter underneath my breath. Granted this unsub has a very weird way about his pattern. I mean the ballads and the conversations between death and a lady, and the fact that he considers himself to be death.

So no, I really don't blame these guys for wanting to keep their distance from all of this.

People start writing from the perspective of death in red lipstick on the victim's mirror?

If I wasn't getting paid for this I would have to take a hard pass.

"The first story ran the morning after the fourth victim was found" JJ tells us still holding the phone to her ear.

Okay no. I'm calling bullshit.

"How the hell did you find that out?" I exclaim looking at JJ disbelievingly, "you literally just picked up the phone without needing a number and in the span of thirty seconds they told you everything you needed to know?"

JJ is clearly some sort of mafia media boss and has favors owed by all of the news stations because that's the only realistic explanation for this.

"Sei assolutamente terrificante (You're absolutely terrifying)" I mutter as she just smirks in response.

"The increased patrols didn't start until the fourth victim either" Derek mentions while flipping through one of the files Spencer had handed him.

"Yeah, the police didn't realize what was happening, he writes his verse" Gideon continues the train of thought.

"And everyone knows that he was there" Spencer concludes.

I turned my head around when I heard faint footsteps behind us and spotted Hotch and Greenaway. They don't look to happy which means that whatever they found out wasn't going to be much help to us.

"The offender in this new attempt is a black male" Hotch tells us when they finally make it to the rest of us.

"Black male? Cross racial- that doesn't happen."

"What the hell?"

Derek and I both spoke at the same time. His words were more eloquent than mine but I wasn't gonna focus too much on that. "Are we sure that he's black or is this just someone making an assumption because it's the easier route to go down?" I ask looking over at Hotch.

I know full well what I'm implying and I don't regret it in the slightest. While everyone would like to just sweep racism under the rug, especially when it comes to people who work for the law, however it wasn't uncommon for officers have racial preferences. It sucked and was unfair as all get out but it was true.

"Why would that be the easier route to go down Ari?" I look up to Spencer at his innocent question. Sometimes it's easy to forget that even through Spencer is the smartest one in our group he's not exactly great with social cues.

I shared a look with Derek before trying to find tact to use for this kind of subject, "I just meant that it might be easier for people to blame a black male for the murder of white women rather than a white male."

Surprisingly it was Greenaway that took over to save me from the onslaught of questions I'm sure Spencer had for me, "This attacker wore a ski mask."

Well that changes things.

"Tell 'em we're ready" Gideon says while gazing at the victim board. How on earth are we ready? Either I'm missing a few dots over here or Gideon figured it all out in his mind and has neglected to tell us anything.

"For our profile?" Derek clarifies while displaying the same look I'm sure is on my face.

"We're gonna make Tommy contact us" Gideon remarks before walking off.

"Okay, while he goes and does whatever it is that he does you're coming with me." I say as I grab Spencer's arm and drag him over to where our personal things reside.

After spending time with Derek I felt better enough to realize that I still had gifts to give Spencer. As we walked into the break room, because that's the space they were able to give us, I let go of his hand and grabbed my messenger bag and pulled out his second present that I had been able to gift wrap.

I tossed him the square package and watched as he fumbled with it for a couple seconds before gaining a hold of it. He gave me a questioning look before I nodded at the package in his hands with a smile. Without any further questions Spencer started to tear open the wrapping paper.

I could tell the moment he saw what it contained because he stopped for a second before his eyes widened and his gaze shot up to mine.

"No way" He breathed out, "Are you serious? I haven't even gotten the time to sit down and watch most of them, we've been too busy." I could practically see him shake with excitement as he finished unwrapping his gift.

The complete First Series Doctor Who box set.

Yeah I know, I'm awesome.

"Well you were so excited that they decided to revive the show and I know that with all the traveling that we do it's hard for you to catch all the episodes, so I thought that this might make it a little easier to play catch up" I said while smiling at him. I knew how much that boy loved Doctor Who, I would have been remiss to not somehow include it in his gifts.

I suddenly had an armful of Spencer as he launched himself into my arms and bear hugged me. Giggling I just held on as he began to spin us around in the small break room.

He may not love me the way I do him, but this was good enough for me.

* * *

One of the only things I hate about giving the profile is when I have to stand up in the front along with everyone else.

And it's not for some stupid reason like 'Oh I hope I don't make a fool out of myself in front of all these people.'

I commanded my own team in the army, I'm not afraid to stand in front of a group of people and tell them what to do.

It's more like I know I don't actually deserve to be up here with them.

Every time I stand beside them it is a painful reminder that I'm not actually one of them. I'm not an expert on this field and so to have people look up at me and ask me questions feels like I'm ripping everyone off.

Needless to say I was not enjoying giving this profile.

"The unsub brought his weapons with him. Tape, glue, wire. He did not leave them at the scene, he took them when he left" Gideon begins to start giving the profile once he see's everyone is in their seat. "He has a kind of killing kit that he carries."

I hold myself back from snorting when he says killing kit. I don't know when he had the time to come up with it but I applaud the terminology.

"Organized killers usually have a skilled job, likely technology related, which may involve use of the hands," Hotch says taking over when Gideon stops. "The crime scenes are far enough apart that he needs a vehicle. This will be well kept, obsessively clean, as will be his home. He's diurnal-"

Hold on what?

What is diurnal?

Oh my god how does he come up with this stuff? Does he have a tiny dictionary on him at all times and does that 'word of the day' crap?

"The attacks occurred during the day, so the vehicle may be related to his work, possibly a company car or truck" Hotch finishes.

"We believe," I jump slightly as Derek begins to talk from right beside me. I didn't know that we were taking turns here. I sincerely hope that they don't land on me cause I've got nothing. "he watches the victims for a time, learns the rhythms of the home, and knows his time frame."

"You're not gonna catch him accidentally." Oh thank god! Hotch went back to talking so I know that I'm not gonna have to.

"He destroys symbols of wealth in the victims' homes" and pass it right back to Gideon. "He harbors envy of and hatred toward people of a higher social class. He feels invisible around them."

You know what that's life. The Queen of England doesn't acknowledge me and yet I don't go around killing people just cause I'm salty.

I can tell that Spencer's about to join in from my position between him and Derek. He begins to stand straighter and leans forward a bit when he does. "Class is the theme of the poem which he left the various crime scenes. A-at one point in the poem, the woman attempts to bribe death but he doesn't accept it. He says this is the one moment when riches mean nothing. When death comes, the poor and the rich are exactly alike." During Spencer's speech I see Greenaway walk into the door way in the back with some files in her hand and a strange look on her face that she directs towards Spencer.

Bitch better not think about calling him weird again or so help me God.

"So he's poor" Captain Griffith concluded from his position on one of the desks.

"Probably middle class. A decidedly lower class person would stick out in a highly patrolled neighborhood. This guy appears to belong there, he blends in" Hotch corrects from the front of the room.

"Why does he glue the eyes open?" Clueless asks while gesturing widely at all the victim's photos.

Oh no no no Clueless, my friend you really don't want to know the answer to that.

Out of nowhere Greenaway has moved from the back of the room to the side of Hotch in the front, "The unsub is an exploitative rapist. Most rape victims close their eyes during the attack, turn their heads. For some rapists this ruins the fantasy. For this type of rapist the goal is more related to the victim watching him than the act itself."

I shouldn't be surprised in the slightest. She really wants to stay on this team and impress the superiors, it's no wonder she rushed in to make sure she had a spot in the 'limelight'.

Her preppy goody two shoes teacher's pet attitude is really starting to piss me off.

Although during her whole explanation Gideon had put his head in his hands as though her words were making him physically ill. Which they should don't get me wrong, but Gideon isn't typically one to let things get to him in public.

"The verses, the staging, the aggressive language, 'I am Death,' this is a guy who while being in control at the crime scene almost certainly feels inadequate in the rest of his life." Hotch says redirecting the conversation from Greenaway's answer.

I can't help but let out a quiet chuckle as I lean my head towards Derek to whisper to him, because if I'm going to laugh than he is going down with me. "So do ya think the reason he feels inadequate is cause he's a dwarf? Might be how he fit through that tiny window too."

Derek let out a breathy laugh and leaned so that he could hide his smile behind my head. I do not regret anything about this, I might get in trouble later for laughing during a debriefing but it was too good an opportunity to miss.

Gideon goes on to say "That's why he couldn't wait for you to figure out what he'd done, why he needed to make sure all his crimes were counted. His victims, they represent whatever it is that's controlling him, and he wants that control back. He is under the thumb of a powerful woman who frightens him."

He wants that control back. Now to me that's a very funny statement, because did he ever truly have control in the first place? Chances are that this unsub never had control over anything, but he wants to, everybody does. Unfortunately it just takes some time for people to realize that they're not always meant to control anything.

"And a final point." Gideon says making sure he has the eyes of everyone on him before he continues, "He is white."

And because nobody can ever give us a break, immediately the Captain goes on to explain why it couldn't possibly be a white man. "We have witnesses that identify him as a black male."

"Then you're looking at two different crimes by two different people Capitano" I finally pipe up from my position in the corner. "The man who murdered these women was not black." I tense up preparing myself for a possible verbal battle from the Captain. If he wants to make this into a race war than he better be ready for me to come at him full force.

"The attacker was black. He is not the Tommy killer" Gideon tells him slowly, as one would with a child.

"Mrs. Gordon's husband came home at the same time that he always does. The Tommy killer would've known that" Hotch adds.

Hotch and Greenaway had told us what happened at the attempted rape call that they had gone to. Apparently people were all too willing to blame a black male as the suspect. Plus I felt immense sympathy for Mrs. Gordon, not only for what she went through, but because the only female presence she could gain comfort from had been Greenaway. I'm shocked the woman wasn't more traumatized after that.

"And Mrs. Gordon's attacker wore a ski mask." Oh god her self-satisfied smirk is back and in its full capacity. "The unsub knows when he walks into a house, he's going to kill the woman who lives there. If you're not leaving any witnesses, why wear a ski mask?" I know she's right but for the sake of me hating her I'm gonna pretend that that sentence had come from someone I actually admire.

"And he want the victims to see him anyway." Derek says this while mirroring my stance, arms crossed and head tiled to the side, as he stares the Captain down and arches one of his eyebrows.

Derek and I don't take anyone's racial shit.

There's a beat of silence where everyone stares at Derek and I as we continue to gaze steely at the Captain.

Hesitantly Hotch tries to steer the conversation back to safer topics. "Your attempted rapist is a garden variety disorganized young man."

"As the victim's age goes up generally, the attacker's age goes down. Mrs. Gordon is about sixty which puts her rapist at about twenty." Thank you Elle Greenaway for presenting us with the disturbing fact of the day.

And it's _attempted_ rapist. He didn't actually rape anyone. Not to discredit Mrs. Gordon's trauma, but getting raped and almost getting raped are two very different things.

They are also two very different charges.

"And-and it takes years to develop the level of calm and sophistication that Tommy displays at a crime scene. And the rapist is far too young for that." I appreciate the input there Gideon.

"Mrs. Gordon told me that there's a young man who delivers groceries to their home. He fits a lot of what we're describing here" Greenaway adds while looking at the Captain.

Captain Griffith, or Captain Asshole just sighs hard and stands up, "Great. So we're back to zero on Tommy."

Okay I'm done.

"Were you asleep for the past ten minutes?" My icy tone quickly quiets the room. Every head seems to turn in my direction but I'm too angry at Griffith to notice. "What, you find out that the Tommy killer isn't black and you magically forget all that we just went over about his potential job, his social class, the kind of vehicle he drives, the kind of person he would be? But oh hey! If he's not black I suppose none of that matters, is that it? Guess what buddy, sometimes white people are criminals too, and you still have to put in just as much effort into finding him as you were when you thought he was black."

You could have heard a pin drop in that room.

I kept my eyes on Griffith's shocked ones. I suppose being Captain he wasn't used to people talking back to him.

I felt Derek move closer till my back was almost touching his chest and his hand came up to rest on my shoulder, a silent 'I've got you're back'.

Hotch cleared his throat and slowly people turned to look back at him. I didn't remove my gaze from Griffith until he too had turned to look at Hotch. I knew I was gonna get it later for my outburst but I'll be damned if I just stood there and said nothing.

"May I see you in your office for a moment?" Hotch says while gesturing to Griffith and walking towards him. The Captain was quick to follow, probably didn't want to stay in the same room as me.

While they walked away I could feel my hands shaking in my anger, the only thing that gave away the fact that I had been affected by his words and attitude. Gently Derek turned me around and laid an arm across my back as he used his other hand to tilt my chin up.

He said no words, not wanting anyone to hear, just asked a simple question with his eyes, 'are you okay?'

One corner of my lips lifted and I nodded my head.

I was okay.

I was okay because I had him.

* * *

After receiving the look that just screamed 'we'll talk later' from Hotch it was decided that Greenaway, Derek and I would go with a team to go arrest Mrs. Gordon's attempted rapist. He said something about how it would look more official with members of the FBI there for the arrest, but I knew it had something to do with the fact that nobody wanted to leave me in the same building as Griffith.

They came up with some backwards strategy to get this kid, who was straight up my age, and arrest him at night while he was packing up his delivery truck.

Greenaway went first behind him and Derek and I would cut him off in the front when he ran, because let's be real, they always run.

"FBI. You're under arrest." And there's Greenaway, that's my cue.

The kid turned and got about two steps in before Derek grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him up and against the truck. And when I say he hauled him up I mean he lifted the kid up by the shirt and pinned him there.

It was awesome.

Since Derek was wrangling with the kid I decided to give him his Miranda. "You're under arrest for the attempted rape of Marcia Gordon."

"What?!" The kid said while simultaneously trying to escape Derek's steel grip on him resulting in his voice coming out like he was a still preteen.

I really don't see how I could have been anymore clear about the reason for his arrest.

Once he was in the back of the car we drove back to the station where JJ was standing behind a podium talking to a bunch of news reporters. Apparently the plan was to make the unsub believe that we thought that this kid was the Tommy killer, which in turn would piss him off enough to call the tip line where Penelope could get a location.

Interesting plan, but I'm on the fence about the success rate.

We pulled up and jumped out of the car Derek jerking the kid out with him with Greenaway and I walking behind him.

Reporters were shouting questions left and right but I paid them no attention. As long as they stayed out of my face I was fine.

The last thing I heard before we entered the station was JJ giving out her final statement, "I can now announce that our office has assisted in making an arrest in connection with the investigation. That's all I can say at this time."

I gotta hand it to her. Whether or not this guy takes the bait, I'm betting all I have that this whole scene did indeed piss him off.

* * *

Every single officer and member of my team except for Hotch and I were at a desk waiting for a phone to ring. Hotch took me off phone duty because and I quote, "If it was your phone he ended up calling I wouldn't put it past you to antagonize him or even yell at him and who knows what that would do."

I should feel flattered that he knows me so well.

"We're still waiting Garcia" JJ said into her phone. Derek just sat back in his chair while rubbing a hand in his eye like he was developing a headache. I had pulled up a chair and sat next to him just doodling on a pad of paper I had found at the one of the desks. Spencer on the other hand was solving a rubix cube for the twentieth time.

"God, I hate waiting like this." Quit your whining Greenaway. Do you think the rest of us like waiting?

"Do you think it's weird that I knew that ballad?" I heard Spencer ask Greenaway from the side of me. Greenaway was at the desk behind Derek and both Spencer and I were in chairs at the side of each of their respective desks.

Greenaway lets out a weird little chuckle, "I don't know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I'm glad you do."

I had subtly lifted my pencil in order to throw it at her but her semi compliment stopped me. I guess I could let her slide this time.

"Do you think it's why I can't get a date?" At his question my grip tightens on the pencil.

No, I would not do this again. I forced myself to loosen my grip and remain calm.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Gideon give me a strange look, I wonder what that's about? To my knowledge ever since I basically accused Griffith of being racist in front of his entire staff I haven't done anything.

"You ever ask anyone out?" For the first time in my life I'm actually glad that Spencer has Greenaway to ask these questions to. I mean I'd do it but it would be the most uncomfortable thing I'd ever have to do.

"No" Spencer relies after he takes a second to think about it.

"That's why you can't get a date."

Suddenly Clueless', whose name I recently found out was Martin, phone goes off and he frantically flags all of us over while he puts the call on speaker.

"You stupid, incompetent sons of bitches! I don't make mistakes! I am death you hear me?! _I_ am death! You'll see now. Tomorrow. Mark my words, you will see" A male voice screams over the phone. "And while I am taking her, I'm gonna be thinking of you" he says right before he hangs up.

The pencil that was in my hands snaps in half.

I'm gonna bury this guy in a shallow grave once I get my hands on him. Screw jail. He wants to be death so bad, I'm gonna send him straight to the man myself.

"Anything?" JJ asks Penelope through the phone. All of us wait on baited breath for a response. "She says she got nothing" she announces.

" _Nothing_?" Derek exclaims while suddenly sitting up. I lay a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him grounded.

"We missed him?" Hotch asks shocked that such a thing could occur.

Everyone just sits back in their chairs exasperated. However if anyone tries to put this on Penelope I will beat them down.

If I was a lesser person I would have pointed out that I didn't think this was going to work in the first place. But I wisely kept my mouth shut this time.

* * *

The entire team split up into groups while we patrolled the neighborhoods in search of the unsub who said he'd be out today. I was with Greenaway and Gideon. You can tell that I was not in charge of putting together the teams. I'm pretty sure this is Hotch's punishment for yesterday's outburst. Derek and Spencer got to go together and Hotch for some odd reason got to go alone while JJ stayed at the station.

Gideon was driving and I had put Greenaway in the backseat cause I didn't want to have to look at the back of her head for the ride over. We had parked outside of the last house that he had been at and we just waited.

"That's the last place he watched. That house" Gideon says while staring out his window.

Greenaway pipes up from her banished place in the backseat, "Morgan said the family hasn't moved back in."

"Well when you're significant other gets murdered in your house you be sure to tell me when you move back in so I can make a note of how much time is acceptable" I say without turning around. What is it with people being so surprised that the family wouldn't want to live in that house again?

"It's the eyes" Gideon mutters quietly shaking his head.

"Excuse me?"

Word of advice Greenaway, don't try to understand Gideon's quiet ramblings, he'll make them known soon enough.

"It's the eyes Elle. Just something not right about the eyes." I think the fact that he glues them open is the main problem with the eyes Gideon.

"If you mean what he does to them, yeah, I agree." How much ass are you going to try and kiss here Greenaway?

"No. It's almost a classic move for an exploitative rapist to force a victim to watch. But we're missing something about it." He says finally turning around to face us.

A police car pulls up beside our car all of a sudden, its driver is not one I recognize from the station. "Can I help you folks with something?"

I almost laugh out loud.

Gideon handles it the adult way and pulls out his badge while telling the man we're FBI. The guy looks like he wants to leave as soon as possible and apologizes before he drives away.

"After the fourth killing P.D. doubled the patrol in these neighborhoods, then doubled them again after the fifth and sixth. Yet somehow he was still able to watch them, how could he not have been seen?" Gideon asks himself while shaking his head in a confused manner.

"Maybe he was seen" I chime in, "maybe he was seen and yet somehow belonged here and his presence wasn't questioned or even given a second thought."

"Is that an oriole?" At Greenaway's question I realize that she has spotted a bird on the electrical fence and I feel a strong urge to hit my head on the dashboard several times. Is this really a good time to be discussing birds?

"No, it's a black-headed grosbeak."

This time I actually hit my head on the dash.

"Orson Wells said all the birds who belong to our sex have prettier feathers, cause males have got to try to justify their existence. We spend all our time screaming 'Look at me. Look at me. Mommy, mommy, look at me.'" As Gideon talks he slowly stops before he gets out of the car.

Both Greenaway and I get out to follow him while he leads us into the previous victim's house and into her bedroom that we had been in the day before.

"He wanted them to see him. He's meticulous. Nothing is an accident. He vacuumed. Seeing is about domination-his creation" Gideon says while staring at the mattress in the middle of the room. "He positioned everything exactly the way he wanted it."

Gideon then does something that disgusts me to my very core.

He lays on the murder mattress in the exact same spot the victim was killed in.

I'm never hugging him again.

Even Greenaway looks confused and slightly grossed out. "If the eyes were so they could watch the attack, why are they all facing away from it? In that position they couldn't see him during." Gideon goes on to say.

Thank God for small blessings. These women were not subjected to being forced to watch him rape them, at least they could look at something else.

"He wanted them to see him afterward."

My blood runs cold at his words. What the hell? Greenaway and I lean down to see what Gideon's looking at. The electrical phone post.

That son of a bitch.

* * *

Once we had rang Penelope to give her all the information she needed to get us a name we called Hotch, Derek and Spencer to let them know that the unsub was a phone technician and that we were looking for a man named Franklin Graney.

Derek and Spencer had gone to the office where he was employed to see if he was there and if not where he had been sent to. The rest of us were just waiting on an address.

"He's on service calls in the area of Orange and Chandler" Greenaway tells us getting of the phone.

Gideon makes a swift U-turn that has me clutching my seat so that I don't go flying head first into the window.

"Get ahold of Hotch, tell him to bring the team and any S.D. cops he can round up" Gideon tells Greenaway while turning down a street after speeding through a couple stop signs.

If this job didn't kill me one day Gideon's driving might.

We saw a service truck parked outside on the side of the street and we quickly pulled up before we jumped out just as soon as Hotch pulled up.

"Fan out. Go through yards, go through telephone poles. He's around here." Gideon ordered. Immediately Hotch and Greenaway ran in opposite directions. I just looked at Gideon, there was no way he was going anywhere without me.

Gideon and I were walking down a driveway before we noticed an open gate leading into the backyard of a house. Suddenly we heard the sound of a baby crying.

The sound broke my heart and I jogged towards it, Gideon following behind me.

"Aah! Mama! Mama! Let me out, let me out" The toddler kept shouting while strapped in a high chair. Gideon and I both unclipped our guns and we slowly made out way into the house through the back door that had been left open.

The toddler's screams and whimpering were tearing at my soul and I ached to make him stop.

We saw the tool bag on the counter and knew we had the right house. The toddler saw us enter and screamed even more.

I couldn't take it anymore.

While Gideon continued to look around the kitchen in search of Graney I leaned down in front of the kid.

"Shhhh sweetheart it's okay" I cooed at him. "It's okay, I've got you, I've got you don't you worry. You're safe now. Let's go get Mommy okay?" As I spoke to him he started to quiet down, the tears still coming out of his eyes. He reached his arms up towards me and I knew there was no way on this god green earth that I could leave him down here all on his own.

I quickly clipped my gun back in place before I reached out and picked the toddler up and cuddled him close. He reached up and grabbed some of my hair in his tiny fist and rested his head in the crook of my neck.

I used one arm underneath him to securely anchor him to me and I used my other to grab my gun again. I placed the arm with my gun across his back so that even though I had both arms around him I was still able to aim the gun in front of me.

Gideon side eyed me as if he couldn't believe I had grabbed the child. It's a good thing I'm not afraid of any repercussions he could throw at me anyway. There was no way in hell I was letting go of this kid. I motioned with my head for him to keep going.

He got out his phone to quietly call Hotch and let him know where we were, "875 Orange Hotch. Back door."

As we walked through the house the child just kept in face in my neck and didn't make a sound. I think he was just happy that someone had grabbed him and he wasn't alone anymore.

Graney had planned to kill a mother and leave this precious child all alone in this house for who knows how long.

I was gonna shoot him for that alone.

From right below the stairs we could see that the bedroom had a distorted glass wall where we could see the shadow of a man walk past.

Slowly and quietly we made our way up the stairs. Once at the top we could hear Graney speaking to the woman he thought he was going to kill. "Never acknowledge me. Never…think of me."

Gideon took a step and the floorboards creaked.

Damnit.

Everything got quiet and we both quickly made our way to the door of the bedroom where we saw the women laying on the bed face down, mouth and hands duct taped, and Graney standing beside her with a gun pointed at the back of her head.

"I'll shoot her."

He says it with such calmness and confidence that anyone other than me might have believed it. However I knew that I was the faster shot and unlike him I was focused on one thing and one thing only.

I had angled my body so that the child's body was mostly out of sight and if he did remove his head from my neck he would be unable to see anything.

"No you won't Franklin" Gideon says while moving further into the room. Normally I would have to but with a child in my arms there was no way I was going to put him in harm's way. I could see the woman eyes relax a fraction at the sight of her son in the arms of an FBI agent. She knew that no matter what happened that at least her son would be safe.

"Yes I will" Graney insists.

It'd be your funeral.

"If you hurt her, I'll kill you" Gideon tells him. He wouldn't, he'd be a fraction too late because I'll do it the moment I see his finger even twitch on that trigger. "I'll just say we caught a low-life burglar. You didn't turn out to be Tommy after all. You will remain uncaught. After a while people will forget you. You'll be nothing."

Graney began to look slightly distraught at the news. Gideon pushed on while inching his way closer to them, "Once every five or ten years they'll do a TV show. They'll ask, 'What ever happened to that Tommy guy? Why'd he disappear? Then they'll stop talking about it all together."

I could hear Hotch and Greenaway walk up the stairs, no doubt eyeing the child in my arms with confusion like Gideon had.

At his continued taunting Graney began to look at his gun like he was second guessing his choices. "Put the gun down. Come on, walk outta here with me. I'll make sure your face is splashed across every newspaper and TV in the country. Tommy killer: Franklin Graney. Everyone will see you then. Bundy, Dahmer, Graney. Whole world will know who you are. It's up to you, Franklin. You can be famous, or you can be invisible."

The whole time Gideon was talking Graney was developing a sick smile on his face, taking Gideon's bait perfectly.

"You'll tell everyone?" Graney confirms hopefully.

Disgusting piece of human trash.

"I have a media specialist outside right now. It is your choice." Gideon's really laying it on thick with this one.

"Promise?" Graney's voice cracks as if he can't believe his luck.

"Yes, sir. I promise." Gideon tells him nodding his head swiftly.

Graney quickly outs down the gun and steps away from it with his hands behind his head. Immediately Hotch and Greenaway slip past me and go to help the mother and cuff Graney to lead him out of the house.

As soon as they get the duct tape off the mother she looks at me, "Thank you, my baby thank you." She begins to sob into the bed while Gideon strokes the top of her head and Greenaway cuts the duct tape bounding her legs off of her.

I would have let the child go to his mother if I thought that she would want him to see her this way, but I didn't, so I held on a little longer. Clipping my gun back in place I wrapped both arms around him properly and began to rock him until he fell asleep. I'd been a very stressful day for him and he was going to need his rest.

I gazed at the small face of the toddler. I'm glad we were able to save his mother and ensure that he would not have his innocence taken from him so soon.

* * *

Of course at the station both Gideon and Hotch had made it a point to tell me that I shouldn't have brought the child with me into the room, opting to tell me that I could have placed his safety in danger. I in turn had told them that if they thought for one second that the kid's life was in danger with me holding on to him than they clearly didn't know me that well.

I would have taken a bullet for that kid.

We were on the jet headed back home. Greenaway sleeping on the couch, Hotch and JJ sitting in one seater seats while looking over more files, no doubt future cases that we would have to get working on. Derek was sleeping with his headphones in, and Gideon, Spencer and I were sitting together with the table in front of us. They once again had a chess game set up on the table.

I reached into my messenger bag and pulled out the last gift I had for Spencer. I pulled out a white envelope and handed it to him without further ado.

Spencer takes the envelope and opens it to see a plane ticket and a cluster of photos of the whole team. I even included Greenaway. I know, the things I do for Spencer Reid.

"What's the ticket for? Got tired of me and decided to send me away?" Spencer jokes as he looks at me questionably.

I just let out a small laugh, "The ticket's to visit your mother and the photos are so that she has something of your life that she can see on a daily basis, so that she can remind herself daily that you are okay. I know how she worries."

Gideon and I were the only ones who knew about his mom so it was okay for me to talk about her in front of him.

Spencer's eyes got glossy and he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer to him. "Thank you" his voice came out raspy and he placed a kiss on the top of my head.

Normally I would have relished at the comfort that came with being wrapped in his arms but with Gideon sitting right in front of us watching it was hard. So instead I broke the hug and noticed that Gideon had his own gift to give to Spencer.

I nudged his head and motioned towards Gideon. "So I forgot to give this to you at the party" he says as he hands over a small blue gift wrapped package tied with a red string at the top.

Spencer smiled and takes the gift from Gideon's outstretched hands, "But you don't give birthday presents."

Gideon just gives him his own smile and shrugs his shoulders. He's got a soft spot for Spencer and I, we're like the kids he never had.

Spencer unwraps the gift to reveal a blue box. Once he opened that he found two tickets to a Redskins game nestled inside.

I won't lie, I'm a little surprised. Did he not know that Spencer wasn't really into that kind of stuff? "Wow… the Redskins." Case and point. Spencer, while sounding grateful, also sounded a little confused.

"It's a V.I.P. box. You ever been to a pro football game?" Gideon asks Spencer.

"No, I-I honestly didn't even know this was football" Spencer says, all of us letting out a laugh at his admission.

"You're gonna love it" Gideon tells Spencer. And he probably would too.

"We are. You're coming with me right?" Spencer asks looking at Gideon, his smile fading a fraction.

Gideon just shakes his head all the while keeping a small smile on his face, "No, someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan." He sends me an apologetic look.

Aw crap he knows something.

"Who?" Spencer is getting better at his lost puppy dog look.

"One of the only two people in the world to call you Spence."

Spencer then looks down at me, "Don't look at me baby boy" I playfully tell him ignoring the jolt of pain in my heart.

"JJ?" Spencer clarifies.

"She's a huge Redskins fan." At Gideon's words Spencer turns around to look at JJ from her position in the chair drinking coffee and reading through a huge stack of paperwork.

"Wh-what should I say?" Spencer nervously asks Gideon and I. Gideon doesn't say anything so I guess it's up to me.

"You walk up to her and tell her that you got the tickets as a gift but don't know anything about the sport but you heard she's a big fan. You then ask her if she would do you the honor of going to the game with you." I tell him. I can see Gideon give me a surprised look out of the corner of my eyes.

Spencer nods at me gratefully before getting up, "Checkmate" he tells Gideon while moving a chess piece before heading back towards JJ.

He finally got Gideon, what a momentous day.

I look up to see him staring at me with a sad little smile. "Okay spill it. What's with the looks you've been giving me?" I tell him tilting my head in his direction.

"You're in love with him aren't you?"

My world stopped for a moment but he carried on as if it hadn't. "And because you love him you got a little jealous of the date topic, which was the cause of your bad mood yesterday and now there's a bigger chance of it considering he's about to go on an actual date correct?"

He's sharper than I give him credit for.

"You know there are a few things you still miss old man" I teased him. Despite the morose topic at hand I couldn't help but feel slightly giddy. After all it's not every day the great Jason Gideon was wrong.

"Okay, well if I'm wrong than would you mind enlightening me as to which part I missed?" And in typical Gideon fashion he asks me to pour out my heart with a smile on his face.

"I'm not jealous anymore" I clarify, "in fact I could even go as far as to say I'm happy for him."

Gideon's eyebrows practically fly to the top of his head. "Really? You're happy that the person you're in love with asked your friend out on a date?" His tone developed a hint of disbelief.

"Believe it or not old man but I've actually got pretty good intentions. I have no illusions as to who I am and what I've done. Spencer is a kind soul, he's still so young and yet he's been through so much-"

"So have you. You've fought for your country, I'd say you probably have been through even more than him" Gideon says cutting me off.

A sharp short breath leaves and I suppose one could mistake it for a laugh of sorts. "I am broken beyond repair, and I am well aware of it. Spencer doesn't deserve to have to deal with my messes. So if he can find some happiness with JJ, or anyone else for that matter, than I am so happy for them. I'll be their biggest supporter. I don't want my feelings to stop him from getting his chance at peace. I already lost mine, I won't let him lose his too."

There's a certain gleam in Gideon's eyes that lets me know that he's analyzing something I've just said. "Who did you lose?" he asks after a few moments of silence.

 _Mari_

I close my eyes and for a moment I swear I can see her standing there, safe and sound.

Like she should have been.

I open my eyes to stare into Gideon's.

"My heart. I lost my heart."

 _Yes_ , _I left a part of my heart in a trench buried beneath the sand back in the Middle East. In the same place I lost Mari._

I feel the urge to cry, knowing neither will ever come back. No matter how hard I beg or scream.

I turn my head away to look out the window, an indication that I was done with the conversation at hand.

I watched as we flew above the clouds. Somehow I always felt closer to Mari in the jet, I always did the higher in the sky we got.

'This was gonna be one hell of a ride Mari' I thought to myself, 'I just wish you were here to do it with me.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Broken Mirror**

 **Ariadne POV:**

"So what happened with you and JJ at the Redskins game, huh?"

Good lord. It was too damn early for me to listen to this. I rolled my eyes at Derek's question. The three of us, Derek, Spencer and I had met each other in the parking garage and decided to walk in together.

Although it was proving to be a mistake. I did not want to discuss Spencer's date with JJ. Call me selfish if you want, I still didn't want to hear about it.

Spencer had a bunch of brown folders secured in his hands and Derek and I were walking arm in arm. Once in a blue moon Derek decides to actually dress like he works for the FBI, so today he's in a suit and tie. I on the other hand have vowed to never put on a pants suit, ever.

I can rock a lot of things, but that's not one of them.

I'm wearing a long sleeved black shirt with a sweetheart neckline, a light beige knitted sweater over the top, and black skinny jeans with knee high boots. I've elected to not have any heels on today, I didn't feel the need to actually dress up. Today just felt more like a casual day.

"Top secret" Spencer tells Derek. I know that he's probably going to tell me sometime in the near future, one of the many perks of being the best friend. Or in this particular case one of the downsides.

I could hear the clicking of heels behind us, "Derek" one of the female agents, whose name I never bothered to figure out, called out to my brother interrupting the conversation we were having. She shouldered her way in between Spencer and Derek so that she could gaze into my brother's eyes. "I put the transcript from the last prison interview on your desk."

Derek just looks confused, "Mm okay, it wasn't classified rush. You could have sent it inter-office." Spencer had dropped behind us after being pushed out but I was still attached to my brother's arm.

Oh great, another woman to fawn over my brother like he was god's personal gift to them. The only woman I thought was okay to have flirting with him was Penelope.

She gives my brother a look before walking away, "I could have." You can tell she wants to turn around to see if he's still watching her.

He wasn't.

Two other office interns walk by us and stare at Derek while Spencer takes his place at his side again. The three of us watch as the two women giggle when Derek sends them a smile. I do wish he wouldn't encourage them.

"Must be tough man" Spencer jokes.

Derek chuckles and lays a hand on Spencer's shoulders, "Not really."

"What do you mean? You don't even do anything and these women are throwing themselves at you" Spencer says in slight awe.

I make a disgusted sound in the back of my throat. God just the thought of women _throwing themselves_ at Derek gives me the chills.

"Strictly off-limits, Reid" Derek tells him firmly. He's got this rule when it comes to dating in the workplace. I happen to think it's a smart one.

Spencer just looks slightly confused, "There's no code of conduct that says agents can't socialize."

I really wish there was though. That way it would be against the rules to fall in love with him, which would have helped me not to do so.

"Yeah, well my code of survival says never mess with a woman who carries a gun. I'm already risking it with Ariadne over here." Derek looked completely serious while saying that. I let go of his arm and let him walk to his desk alone.

"Don't you know big brother that I would never use my gun on you? It's the floozies you date that need to be careful" I tease him. I receive a pair of eye rolls for the comment, yet there were no objections.

All of a sudden Greenaway comes barreling into the bullpen like a bat outta hell, barely missing crashing into Spencer. As she makes her way closer to me I tense up making it so that when she passes she clips my shoulder and stumbles a bit. She turns and sneers at me before scurrying away into Hotch's office.

It's the little things that truly make my day.

I went over to my desk and put my messenger bag down on the floor. I looked down and saw the pile of paperwork I still had to finish filling out, just basic case reports and any additional notes I had while observing in the field. It was a pain in the ass and I always ended up putting it off until the last moment.

"Reid, Morgan's one and two" I lift my head up when I hear Hotch call us, "Document's up on the screen regarding the kidnapping of Trish Davenport."

I sigh picking my bag back up and following behind my brother as the three of us made our way up the stairs and into the conference room.

"Have you read them yet?" Spencer asks Hotch as he walks up the stairs. He better watch where he's going, the last thing I want is for him to fall down because he wasn't paying attention.

"Yeah I got a copy from the document examiner." Hotch informed us.

It doesn't surprise me, somehow he always knows all the details before the rest of us even know that there's a case.

"What's it say?" Derek asks as we file in behind Hotch and Greenaway. Everyone's pretty much on edge and anxious to know as much as possible since this was a kidnapping case.

"That we've got until eight o'clock tonight."

Well it's a good thing it's still early.

We made it into the conference room and we all walked up to the screen in order to the letter than the kidnapper had sent.

Spencer decided to read it out loud, "You will follow instructions carefully. You will do this to ensure the safety of your daughter. You will wait for the call. You will answer the call at eight o'clock pm. You will write down the instructions and follow them to the letter."

Have I ever mentioned that I hate people telling me what to do?

"That gives us less than nine hours to get to Connecticut, work up victimology on Trish Davenport and prepare her father for the ransom drop" Hotch told us looking at each of us to make sure we understood.

"How do we know the letter's real?" Gideon ask from behind us. That's a good question, I just assumed that it would be considering the fact that the kidnapping hasn't been made public yet.

"Uh…" Hotch presses a button and the writing zooms in on the screen. "The handwriting is a match for Trish's. He dictated it to her, and they found saline on the paper."

"So she was crying" I surmised. That poor thing, I can't imagine what she's going through right now.

"He never says 'I', he doesn't say 'I will call' he says 'you will answer the call'. He's distancing himself from the kidnapping. If he said 'I', he'd be taking responsibility for it." Derek points out while studying the letter a little harder.

I don't see how he could distance himself from the kidnapping. I mean if you kidnap someone it's your fault plain and simple, you don't get to pass off that blame.

"There's also another missing element. There is no mention of the police. Normally ransom notes almost always forbid police involvement. So is he expecting law enforcement to get involved?" I couldn't tell who Hotch was talking to or if he even wanted an answer to his question so I remained silent.

Gideon however had something to say on the matter, "Well, if he's expecting us, let's not disappoint him."

Everyone started to leave the room to go collect their go bags but I kept looking at the letter for a couple more minutes.

I wasn't concerned about playing whatever game this guy had in mind, I wasn't concerned about him in the slightest. I just wanted to make sure that we didn't disappoint Trish.

* * *

I swear most of my time is spent on this jet. I'm almost positive I'm here more than I am at my own house.

Hotch had his laptop open with a clock on the right hand side of the screen that displayed the time. 1:08 pm. That means we had a little less than seven hours before the call was to be made.

"Everyone familiar with the father?" Hotch asks us while he leans his head back so that Gideon, Spencer and I could hear him.

I was on the couch by myself, Gideon and Spencer were sitting opposite of each other in some of the chairs, Derek was in front of Hotch, and I could care less about where Greenaway was if we're being honest.

Spencer than fills us all in about everything there is to know about Trish's father. "Evan Davenport, U.S. attorney, executive assistant, southern district New York. Widower, assigned U.S. Marshals three times in the past ten years due to death threats."

Well if I didn't know anything about Mr. Davenport before I certainly do now.

"Is the protection detail still current?" Derek asks, his face firmly planted in a file.

Hotch nods his head, "Around the clock, but Trish declined protection when she turned eighteen." I don't understand why someone would ever decline having protection, especially when their own father gets death threats consistently.

"Too bad for the boyfriend" came a muttered response from my brother. He's right, a little morbid, but right. Because Trish declined security there was no one there to protect her and as a result she was kidnapped and her boyfriend was murdered. That was going to be a heavy burden for her to bear.

"What I still don't understand is the reason why he was killed. I mean what was the purpose of it?" I ask form my position on the couch. I didn't ask anyone in particular, I figured one of them would give me an answer.

Turned out to be Derek. "Well if I want to kidnap someone I know I have to take out whoever's with them."

You know any member of law enforcement would make for the best kinds of criminals. They always know what to look for and how to go about avoiding suspicion.

"It says here that she's got a sister. Name's Cheryl. Any problems? Were they close?" I look over at Derek when he asks this. I don't know how we're supposed to have the actual answer to that.

"Yeah" Spencer says as he pulls out a photograph to show the rest of us, "They're identical twins."

Well that's just great. A thought slams into my head all of a sudden and its implications threaten to give me a headache.

Are we even sure that we've got the right twin?

* * *

Gideon, Hotch and Spencer all went to Mr. Davenport's home while the rest of us went to the crime scene where Trish was taken.

When we pulled up we saw a couple other cops cars and officers and detectives all over the place. But the one thing that really stood out was the fact that Cheryl Davenport was lying face up on the ground in the middle of the dirt road.

Greenaway had a look of sympathy on her face, as if she understood, while Derek and I looked at Cheryl as if she had lost her mind.

"What's she doing?" Derek asked one of the officers incredulously.

"Lying on the road."

Wow. Thank you officer I never would have guessed that that's what she was doing. I'm so glad to know that there are such observant people like you keeping the streets safe.

"Yeah we got that Sherlock, the question is why is she lying on the road?" I said exasperatingly. It's so hard to find good help nowadays.

"She's trying to get a feel for what happened to her sister" One of the female detectives told us.

"By lying on the ground?" Derek asked with the classic 'are you joking?' look. We were thinking the exact same thing. What in the world is she gonna get from the dirt?

"The girl spent her teenage years perfecting ways to ditch her bodyguards" The male officer starts.

"We're just happy she's in our line of sight" the female detective finished his thought from beside us.

Derek, Greenaway and I all moved closer to Cheryl, done speaking with the unhelpful officers. Derek lifts up a hand and motions it to Cheryl with a confused look. "Cheryl Davenport?" He calls out to her.

"Shhh!" She tells us as if she's not lying on the dirt road. "Just a minute. No, I'm not crazy. I'm lying here for a reason."

Well you coulda fooled me.

Derek begins to look around him as if he can't believe that all these officers have just let her do this.

All of a sudden she begins to sit up, looking around wide eyed. She stands and take a couple steps towards us before she stops to point to the ground. "He dragged her from the car. This is where she fell. Trish is a fighter, she wouldn't have gone quietly, not even with a gun pointed at her."

Greenaway just turns to look at Derek and I, "She's right. There are nail marks on the car seat."

"So you believe your sister's still alive?" Derek asks looking at her skeptically.

She continues to stare at us wide eyed, "I know she's still alive" she insists.

"You know the way, twins know."

Cheryl and I both roll our eyes at Greenaway's statement for two completely different reasons.

"Not the 'I can feel my twin's pain' crap. If you stick her with a needle I don't cry out." Cheryl corrects her. "But if something is bothering her, if something is wrong, I can feel it. Even from a thousand miles away at college"

Aw hell nah.

Derek and I both looked over at each other at the same time. We didn't mess with that whole mumbo jumbo shit. Gave us the creeps. We both walked away after that statement.

We ended up walking over to the blood stain located on the ground and Derek kneeled down beside it. I could hear Cheryl and Greenaway continue their conversation.

Hey on the bright side of things I finally found a use for Greenaway. She can do all the things I don't want to do.

"My feeling is that my sister is still alive" Cheryl says loud enough that everyone within ten feet of her can hear.

Derek nods his head respectively in order not to seem like he's discrediting her.

I mean if her believing in the power of twins is what gets her through the kidnapping of her sister, then by all means, believe away.

Derek then gets into his zone and begins to walk around, moving some of the plants around and whatnot. He recreating the scene in his mind, going over all the various possible scenarios. I've seen him do it all the time.

I can hear Cheryl ask Greenaway about what he was doing and I waited to see what she was going to come up with.

"He's trying to get a sense of the kidnapper through his behavior by role playing the events."

Okay, so she wasn't too far off there. That's a first for her.

Cheryl scoffs, "That doesn't sound very scientific, does it?"

"And somehow knowing exactly when your twin is uncomfortable when you're a thousand miles away is?" I ask her without turning around.

So I'm a little defensive when it comes to Derek. Sue me.

Derek exhales loudly, I'm not sure if it's because he's onto something or if Cheryl's starting to annoy him as much as she is me.

"Ok, she was rarely without the boyfriend." Nope, the sigh was because he was onto something. "Well, I know in order to get to her I got to take him out. He was collateral damage. Or was he? Shot was to the face. That's personal." As Derek spoke he kept walking and looking around. The more he did so the more Cheryl followed him with her eyes, worry bleeding out of them.

I could understand why she was so concerned. No matter what she might have "felt" coming from her sister, it was still one thing to think and another to actually know and see how things played out.

"Kill the boyfriend…get him out of the way so I can get her…" Derek stops to turn around and look Cheryl straight in the eyes, "alone."

Way to be ominous there big brother.

* * *

We took Cheryl back to her father's house so that we were there when they got the call. Gideon and Spencer had helped to set up a phone tap so that we could all hear the unsub but he couldn't hear the rest of us.

Derek and I had gone into the kitchen when Greenaway ambushed us. "You think Cheryl's a whack job because she claims she can feel her sister's anxiety don't you?" She says coming right out with it.

"I never said whack job" Derek tells her, defending himself.

We might not have said it, but we were thinking it.

Spencer comes walking in to join the conversation, "Actually there may be a physiological basis for it."

Derek sighs and hangs his head before addressing Greenaway, "Don't ask."

"Reversed asymmetry monozygotic eggs split late, between nine to twelve days. The DNA matches right down to the very last stranded code, and there's sporadic documentation of shared physiological pain."

Greenaway looks giddy at Spencer's explanation, probably because she thinks it proves her right somehow.

"So you believe it?" Derek asks giving Spencer a deadpan stare.

"No, I'm just saying it's possible. I don't know everything. I mean, despite the fact that you think that I do." He says innocently.

"Possible or not Spence it's still creepy as shit" I tell him. I notice that Hotch has walked into the kitchen sometime during our little squabble.

Derek points at me, "What she said. And by the way I never said that. When have I ever said you know everything?"

All the flippin' time Derek.

"Every day since I met you" Spencer says with a small laugh and a smile.

"This morning on the ride over" I pitch in.

"Yesterday when he beat you at cards." I quickly turn to face Hotch. Who knew that the stone himself could crack a joke? "Um… we've got one minute" he reminds us before heading back out to the family room where everything was set up.

Derek just looks at the rest of us, "Anybody ever heard of sarcasm?"

"Mm-hmm" Greenaway, Spencer and I all say at the same time, walking in the direction that Hotch had gone.

As we made our way into what looked to be the family room I noticed two agents standing ramrod straight by the door dressed in black and white suits. God could you imagine how uncomfortable that must be? To have to stand up with your back completely straight lest you accidently relax and bust a seam?

I snickered as I passed them, suckers. Yeah that's right look at me all comfortable and shit, still able to do my job and everything.

Spencer and Gideon were seated by Mr. Davenport and the rest of us elected to stand around the table. You could almost feel the tension in the room skyrocket as the clock chimed, alerting us to the fact that it was now eight o'clock.

"Remember, keep your voice even and calm and agree with everything he says." Gideon calmly advised Mr. Davenport, who was wringing his hands together.

The clock chimed once more before stopping enveloping us all in the anxious silence.

"He's late" Mr. Davenport breathed out, fear written in the lines of his face.

Hotch was quick to reassure him, "He'll call. Just try to relax, this is his strategy. He wants you on edge."

I'd say he's doing a bang up job on that so far.

The telephone rang suddenly, startling all of us out of our thoughts. Mr. Davenport took a sharp breath in and sat up straighter while the rest of us put on our headphones so we could listen into the phone call.

"You try to keep him talking to reveal something about Trish or himself" Gideon told Mr. Davenport right before he pushed the button to answer the phone.

"This is Evan Davenport." Good it looks like he took Hotch's words to heart. He sounds calm and collected.

"Hello Mr. Davenport."

God this dude's voice gave me the creeps.

"Are you the man who has my daughter Patricia?" Even though Mr. Davenport's voice was steady his hands were not.

"I have your daughter." Well we already fucking knew that so a fat lot of good that information is.

"Can I ask you-"

"You may ask me nothing" The unsub firmly states. "This is not an interrogatory, you will listen only to my instructions. But I will not give them to you."

 _Huh_?

"I don't understand-" Mr. Davenport begins only to be cut off yet again.

"I do not want to talk to you, Mr. Davenport." The unsub then began to breathe a little harder while we all looked up at each other in confusion. "I want to talk to _her_. I want to talk to Cheryl."

Slowly everyone's heads turned to look at the girl who was frozen in place. She looked as confused as the rest of us so I knew that this was not something she had counted on.

Immediately Gideon hit the mute button so that we could talk in private. Mr. Davenport moved his chair back and looked at all of us in a panicked confusion, "What's he doing?"

Derek leans down to sit on the edge of the table so that he can draw Mr. Davenport's attention away from the phone. "What most of the offenders we catch try to do, establish dominance."

"How long can we keep him on hold?" Greenaway suddenly asks from her position next to Cheryl.

I turn to look at Hotch and Gideon knowing that it was ultimately going to be up to them. Hotch's eyes don't stray from the phone but he begins to shake his head, "We can't put her on."

"Why not?" Cheryl demands, "I want to help. I'll talk to him."

At this point I think that putting her on the phone would cause more harm than good. I mean we don't even know why he wants to talk to her. Letting her get on the phone is just giving him more power in this situation and that's the last thing that we want right now.

"Cheryl doesn't have the authority that Davenport holds. He shouldn't want to talk to her." Derek points out.

"The fact that he does is what's most concerning about the whole thing." I said looking over at Gideon who was surprisingly silent.

"I think that she should speak to him."

And just when I thought Greenaway couldn't possibly get any stupider she goes and proves me wrong. I let out a deep sigh and just stare at her, wondering how on earth she managed to get this far in life if those are the kinds of solutions that she comes up with.

"Do I need to repeat myself? I want to talk to Cheryl. Put her on the phone. Now." The unsub commanded, reminding us all that we didn't have the time to debate whether or not we're going to put her on the phone with a kidnapper.

Gideon, who's still staring off into space utters a simple "No."

"I think she should speak to him. He wants to talk to her. The more he speaks, the more he reveals." Greenaway continued to try and convince us to follow her idea.

Surprisingly it's Derek who folds first. "Elle is right Gideon."

I make a small choking sound in the back of my throat. "Please dear god if you love me at all never utter those words again" I mumble looking over at him.

"He has my sister!" Cheryl bursts out, taking a step towards the table.

Gideon finally turns his head to focus on Mr. Davenport and he repeats his previous statement. Gideon would not let Cheryl speak to the unsub.

This is not the answer that Cheryl wants, however it is the one she's getting.

"I'm waiting." This unsub is really starting to piss me off.

Okay so time for plan B, fake it till you make it. I walk over to Gideon and nod my head at the phone indicating that he should give it to me. He looks up at me for a second to determine if I'm serious and I motion with my hand for him to unmute the phone.

Greenaway looks upset that no one's listening to her but once again I couldn't care less about what she wants. She is at the bottom of my list of things to worry about.

Gideon presses the button and I place my hands down on each side of the phone so I can lean my weight on the table. "This is Cheryl."

Silence was the only response I received.

I looked up at Hotch, clearly this wasn't going to work but the least I could do was try to get some sort of reaction. "Hello, this is Cheryl" I try once more.

"I have Patricia by my side. I know her voice, therefore I know her sister's. Get off the phone, I want Cheryl. I'll give you sixty seconds, if you don't put her on the phone I will hang up and you will never hear from me or Patricia again."

Listen here you short pathetic excuse of a man, who the _hell_ do you think you are speaking to me like that? 'I want Cheryl', she's not some toy that you can have just because you want it.

I open my mouth to say something that would have undoubtedly angered the man but a hand on my shoulder stopped me. Gideon looked at me and shook his head before he muted the phone again. "Prep her" he told me before getting up and motioning to Cheryl, "Come on over here, please."

"Fifty seconds." Oh great, it looks like this guy is going to be giving us a verbal count down.

Cheryl rushed over to where I was standing, Greenaway following behind her. I don't know what for, it's not like I was going to let her give Cheryl any advice. Who knows what whack thing she'd end up telling her to do.

"This guy's arrogant" Greenaway starts to tell Cheryl. I knew she'd try to kick start this little learning session.

I stepped in front of Greenaway blocking her view of Cheryl and helped to guide the girl into her seat before taking over. "Completely disregard her," I nodded my head in Greenaway's direction, "You need to make sure that he feels like he has control over the situation as much as it may pain you to do so. Let him lead the conversation, don't start one and don't tell him any personal things about yourself, just stick to the topic of your sister."

"Forty."

"Make your sister a real person, use her name, and make him realize that Trish is real and not just an object." I continue as Cheryl nods her head at my words.

"Thirty-five seconds." I glare at the phone. He could stop counting now, we all knew how long a minute was.

"Talk about her" Greenaway buts in, trying to make sure that she got something in before the time was up. "Let him get to know her through you."

Even though Greenaway had started talking Cheryl's attention never strayed from me. I looked her straight in the eyes, "Do _not_ do that. Do not give him anything personal, no matter what he says. If you don't know what to say just look at me and I'll walk you through it."

"Twenty-five seconds."

I look over at Greenaway and dare her to say something else. Seems like I found another one of her weaknesses, she gives terrible advice.

"Twenty seconds."

"You got this?" I ask looking back at Cheryl. If she wasn't ready I wasn't going to make her get on the phone. We could always find another way to get this done.

Cheryl takes one last look at her father before she looks down at the phone with determination in her eyes. "I'm good."

I turn my body around to face Gideon and nod at him, letting him know that we were ready to go and I pressed unmute.

"This is Cheryl."

The response was immediate. "Hello Cheryl. How are you?"

I noticed Spencer taking notes out of the corner of my eye as the conversation continued. Cheryl looked at me silently asking if this was a question that she could answer. I smiled encouragingly. This was not on of the personal things I was talking about.

"I'd be a lot better if I knew that my sister…Patricia's okay." This is good, she's remembering what I told her and using Trish's name.

There was a pause before the unsub continued, "I can tell you have a lot of empathy Cheryl. You care about others."

Okay this was starting to get into the personal level that I didn't want her to cross.

"Yes, I do. And it sounds like you understand." Cheryl had a bit of a stutter when she spoke but under the circumstances it was understandable.

"You mean that I _empathize_?"

By this point even Hotch, who had seemed to be doing fine, looked a little creeped out by how this guy spoke.

It made me think of a snake, with the slight hiss that they all seem to possess.

Poor Cheryl didn't quite understand what this guy's point was. "Yes" was all she could manage.

"I do. Very much. I empathize. I empathize with you Cheryl." In the middle of his sentence Greenaway held up a pad of paper that had the words 'you want Trish back' written in all caps. I don't know why she couldn't just leave it alone, Cheryl was handling this just fine. "I know you want to be with your sister" the unsub continued, not knowing what Cheryl had just been instructed to say.

"Yes. I-I want Trish back." Cheryl said firmly.

"Good." It came out breathy and the chills I previously had came rushing back with a vengeance. "Tell me what you want Cheryl. I'm very interested. Tell me all about yourself. What's your favorite color?"

I quickly hit the mute button, "Do not answer that. Remember no personal answers, don't give him anything real about you. Continue with Trish." And with that I unmuted the phone once again.

Cheryl nodded her head as if she understood but it was apparent by her next words that she didn't quite get the gist of what I had told her. "If I tell you, will you let me talk to my sister?"

I shook my head at her, reminding her that once again she was not to hand this man anything personal. The unsub chuckled in response to her question, "Maybe. Maybe not."

There were unshed tears in her eyes when she looked over at me for direction. 'Orange' I mouthed at her, seeing the look of understanding dawn on her.

If she had to tell him about herself I was going to make sure that none of it was real.

"I like orange."

"Really? I wouldn't have thought that'd be the one." That's cause it's not you jackass. "You continue to surprise me. Do you like chocolate Cheryl?"

Once again she turned to look at me and just like the last time I told her exactly what to do. 'Lie. If the answer is a yes than tell him no, if it's a no then tell him yes' I wrote on the pad that Greenaway had handed over to me.

This whole thing would have gone smoother if he couldn't tell the difference between our voices.

Apparently if you don't answer within the nano second of him asking the question he becomes irritated. "Do…you…like…chocolate?" Each word was punctuated as if he were speaking to a small child.

"No" Cheryl was quick to tell him. It was easier for her to answer him with the false answers, knowing that he would not actually find out anything about her. Before he could try and ask something else Cheryl turned the topic back to Trish, "Please, let me talk to my sister."

There was a long stretch of silence and we all practically held our breath in anticipation.

"All I want to do is hear her voice. Please." Cheryl pleaded, hoping that it would be enough to convince him to put Trish on the phone, letting us know that she was still alive.

The sound of a door creaking caused all of our eyes to dart to the phone. Cheryl sat up straighter, not knowing what to expect. "Hello?"

"Cher…" came a weak voice from the other side of the phone.

The tears that had previously been unshed fell down the cheeks of both Cheryl and Mr. Davenport at the sound of their missing family member. "Trish!"

"Cheryl is that you?" There was a slur in her voice, indicating a number of things. She could be tired or cold, she could even be drugged.

Cheryl breathed out a sigh of relief and lent down closer to the phone as if she could get closer to her sister in the process. "Trish, it's me. I'm here" she reassured Patricia, "Are you okay?"

"Cheryl, I can't…" Patricia voice began to sound more panicked, as if she was becoming more aware of her surroundings the longer she talked to Cheryl.

The rest of us looked at each other, knowing that while we finally had confirmation that Patricia wasn't dead we still didn't know where she was or who had her.

The stress finally got the better of Cheryl and she began to yell, "Where are you? What do you see?"

It was painful for me to watch this. I knew that I was in the same position as Cheryl I would have felt so helpless.

"I…I see the moon."

All of a sudden the creaking sound was back and I sucked in a sharp breath at the look of horror on Cheryl's face. "Trish! Trish!" She yelled helplessly into the phone.

"Have five hundred thousand ready." The unsub was done with the family reunion.

"Let me talk to her!" Cheryl cried out. I placed my hand on her shoulder, knowing that it was the best I could do at the moment.

"Five hundred thousand is what I'm owed." The unsub repeats, no longer talking to Cheryl. "The Davenports will wait by the phone. You will receive a call with precise instructions in exactly fifteen minutes." And with that he hung up.

Instantly Cheryl let out a sob and ran from the table, her father following after her. While we all felt awful for them we had to move on, more determined than before because Patricia was alive.

"Were you able to trace it?" Gideon calmly asks Spencer. I have a feeling he didn't, otherwise that would have been the first thing he said when the call was over.

"No," Spencer says confirming my suspicions, "He's probably using a disposable cell phone. They're impossible to trace." Gideon nods his head as if he was expecting it.

"She said she could see the moon." Greenaway adds as though it's something significant.

"Yes thank you Greenaway, we were all there for that, I don't think any of us missed it. However you seem to have missed the fact that she sounded high out of her mind. To her a lightbulb could have looked like the moon." I was too tired to try dealing with her anymore.

"She was definitely sedated" Spencer said from his seat.

"If he's keeping her drugged it might mean he's not very strong. He might have to keep her weak just so he can dominate her, or keep her quiet." Derek says while looking over at me. I didn't know what to do beyond this point. I mean all we really could do was wait for the instructions to see what was next.

I wanted to pull my hair out. This was not how things were supposed to go at all.

"Has Davenport told us everything about his staff?" Gideon double checks with Hotch.

"Oh, yeah, we have detailed reports but we should probably revisit background on household staff, aides and current docket" Hotch lists off.

Gideon's mouth drops open slightly at the amount of things they'll have to recover. I just hope it's not going to be an all hands on deck sort of thing. I'd much rather they have me doing something else. I'd even take notes like Spencer to not have to review all those files.

"Guys, she wasn't blindfolded." Derek says tersely while looking around the room to make sure that he had everyone's attention.

She's seen his face.

And that means he has no plans to let her live once he gets that money.

* * *

It had been about ten minutes since the unsub last called and we had been using the time in between to analyze everything that had been said through Spencer's meticulous notes.

"He said owed." Gideon started while staring down at the paper in front of him which held the entire script of the conversation, "Five hundred thousand dollars."

Spencer moved to stand near Gideon so he could read the words as well. "His demands sounded scripted, like he was reading it to us."

Nobody says 'that is what I'm owed' naturally. It just doesn't roll of the tongue.

"But the rest of the conversation wasn't. He was his most relaxed just talking to Cheryl." At Derek's words I'm reminded of the look on Cheryl's face when she was asked what her favorite color was. Confused disbelief. A look that I'm sure most of us shared at the time.

"Which is disconcerting because not once in his original set of instructions did he mention her. It was completely out of left field for us but he had it planned from the start. This guy is one step ahead of us in a game we don't understand, and we have about three minutes to figure it out." I exchanged a look with Derek while I spoke. We didn't have enough time to sort through all the questions that surrounded this unsub.

"Well we're just gonna have to improvise then" Gideon said. "How quickly can you get the money?"

I look over to see who Gideon's talking to and I see Mr. Davenport standing in the entryway of the room. I just hope he wasn't in here when I mentioned that the unsub was a step ahead. That kind of talk doesn't typically inspire confidence.

Greenaway had followed Cheryl into the kitchen like two minutes ago and I felt like I could breathe easier. Now whether or not it was because I was glad Cheryl wasn't here to listen to all of this or because I was generally ecstatic for any time away from Greenaway, I wasn't sure.

No, sorry that was complete bullshit.

It's totally because I can't see Greenaway's face. I don't know why I try to lie myself like that.

The phone ringing brought me back in the moment.

I couldn't believe that five minutes had passed so quickly. I moved to take my place by Derek's side and waited for Mr. Davenport to answer the phone.

"Everything will be done by Cheryl." Are the first words we hear as soon as Gideon hit the answer button. "Cheryl will gather the money packets. Only she will touch the money."

I felt the strong urge gather the money myself to see if there was anyway that he would _really_ know if anyone else touched it. I mean what could he do? Throw a fit?

"Cheryl will make the drop. If she is wired, if you use a look-a-like, Patricia dies. Cheryl will get in her car, no one is to be in the car with her. No one is to follow her, no air surveillance, no car surveillance of any kind will be tolerated. I will give directions over a cell phone as Cheryl drives. She must make the drop at exactly three a.m. She will follow each instruction to the letter." And with that he hung up.

Ha!

If this unsub thinks for one second that even half of those things are going to happen than he's crazier than I thought.

"We can't let her go alone."

No shit Hotch. That was never part of the plan in the first place.

"He said if he sees anyone-"

Hotch cuts Mr. Davenport off before he can restate everything we just heard. "I know. One car, unmarked. Tinted windows."

We all turn to watch Mr. Davenport as he looks over at Hotch resigned. "If he sees one of you and Trish dies… If my daughter dies…" Mr. Davenports tone darkened and my eyes narrowed in response.

If he was trying to threaten us for looking for a way to help save his daughter and keep the other one safe I swear his day is about to get a whole lot worse.

I turn to look at Cheryl, "What kind of car do you drive?" A plan was formulating in my head and by the looks I was receiving from the rest of the team I could tell they noticed.

"A yellow Volkswagen Beetle."

I grinned and turned my head to look at Gideon, "I have an idea."

My plan was great, but there was a slight chance it was gonna hurt.

* * *

The car turned right and the momentum caused my shoulder to go crashing into the metal siding.

As I groaned I heard a chuckle come through my ear piece. That jerk. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Derek. Laugh while you still can because as soon as I'm out of here I'm coming for you."

It only served to make him laugh harder.

"Don't be getting angry at me sweetheart, you're the one who volunteered for this position."

My idea sounded a whole lot better before I actually put it in motion. I mean, hiding in the back of the trunk with a blanket over me so that I'm undetected? Brilliant.

Getting tossed side to side every time we turn or hit a bump in the road? Not so much.

"Sounded a lot better in my head" I muttered to him underneath my breath.

"Well this way we have eyes and ears both in the car and outside of it, so it works." I had forgotten that Hotch was on the com as well. The man is so silent most of the time that you can forget he's in the same room as you.

The car started to slow down and I could tell that we were here. The rental car lot that Spencer had found using the coordinates that Cheryl had been given. She was either supposed to switch cars here or this was where the drop would be happening.

I felt the car come to a stop and Cheryl put it into park. I finally allowed myself to relax and lean against the back of the seats as I pulled the blanket down in a way that it still covered the top of my head but my face was now free to look around.

Instead of the normal clip that I use that goes on my pants I chose to wear a shoulder holster for my gun so that I could have easier access to it.

"You know my guess?" I could hear Derek begin to talk over the connection, "One of these cars has a set of keys already in the ignition with a disposable cell phone sitting right in it."

God I hope not. I don't want to have to go into an even smaller trunk. I might just choose the backseat next time.

There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line, "Five minutes to go."

In the front of the car I could hear Cheryl's breath beginning to speed up the closer to the drop time it became. I wish I could have been up there to give her some comforting advice but we couldn't risk me being spotted.

"He's probably going to have her drive around for over an hour just to make sure no one's following her. And then the ransom drop."

"Listen Derek" I begin, whispering so that Cheryl couldn't hear, "If you could lay off of all the depressing ways this could go down I would greatly appreciate it. I don't know how Hotch likes to roll but I'd like to maintain the slightest bit of positivity. Thank you very much."

It was getting to be extremely hard to focus when Derek kept talking about the million different ways that this whole thing could go wrong and how many ways we could fail.

"I'm sorry, but something's not _right_ about this." The firmness in Derek's voice sets me on edge even further. "What if he was watching us or listening to us?"

Hotch was quick to shut him down, "The local office did a bug sweep."

"Oh come on, you heard that ransom call. It was way too simple."

I clear my throat, trying to get their attention, "What are you saying here Derek?"

Before he could answer Cheryl's phone rang.

"All right, you're the unsub. What would you have done differently?" Hotch and Derek can't hear Cheryl's phone from my earpiece so they continue talking, while I try to listen into the instructions that Cheryl is being given.

"I would have said don't involve the police or the media. Five hundred thousand dollars, no consecutive serial numbers on the bills. No marked bills. No new bills. No tracking devices in the money bag…"

Derek's voice begins to fade as I hear Cheryl open her car door. I unholster my gun and use my other hand to silently pop open the trunk about a half an inch so that it's unnoticeable.

"Why didn't he say any of this?" Hotch's voice is faint, the pounding sound of my heartbeat drowning out his words.

Cheryl takes a couple steps away from the car and I slowly lift the trunk open enough so that I could tuck and roll straight out.

Between the silence on Cheryl's side and the worrying conversation on my brother's side I was beginning to become concerned that there was something off about this whole thing.

"Hotch this was never about the money" Derek says frantically.

Right after he says it a car engine starts up.

"It's not a ransom drop."

That was enough to kick me into gear. I instantly let the trunk fly open the same time I hear Derek say, "It's a second kidnapping!"

I roll out of the trunk and take off towards Cheryl, Derek and Hotch running out of their car as well. "Cheryl drop!" I yell.

"Get down! Stay down!" I can hear Derek's feet hitting the pavement behind me.

Cheryl does what I tell her to and she drops into a crouch on the ground and a car door slams shut and goes to peel out of the lot.

I raise my gun and aim at the back tires and try to take them out but the unsub speeds away with only bullet holes in the bumper.

Derek comes to a stop beside me and Hotch goes to help a terrified Cheryl stand back up.

I look up at Derek, both of us holding our guns out in front of us. "Forget everything I just told you. How about we list all the ways this could go wrong _before_ we go ahead with a plan."

* * *

We had to call everyone to let them know what had happened and like I thought Mr. Davenport just about had a stroke over the phone. Cheryl had to calm him down the entire ride back, assuring him that she was alright and that she was on her way back to the house in one piece. I drove Cheryl's car this time, seeing as there was no reason I would have to be in the trunk anymore and Cheryl was too shaken up to properly drive.

We had to race back because we wanted to make sure we were there when the unsub called again. And after ruining his last attempt it was safe to say that we were all hoping that it would cause him to lose his composure enough to reveal something about himself or where Trish was.

Derek was the first in the house and swiftly went to Mr. Davenport to tell him that Cheryl was still alright. As soon as all of us were in the house and the door had shut the phone began to ring.

Right on time.

Derek waited until everyone had gathered before he hit the green button that allowed the call to come through.

"That was fun, wasn't it? A little running around, getting our pulses racing" the unsub sounded a little winded. I wonder if he just got back to wherever he was hiding as well. "Are you there Cheryl?"

Immediately Derek stuck up his hand, indicating that she was not to speak at this moment.

"Are you there?" The unsub asked more firmly. "Tell me you didn't feel a slight tingle, a thrill run up your spine. Huh? But those clever and cunning FBI agents deduced my little plan just in time-they figured it out. If they hadn't I would have had you both. The whole set. The matching pair."

"Why are you doing this?"

I whip my head up to look at Cheryl but she's too focused on the phone. I thought we had a plan where she wasn't going to talk. Derek on the other hand looks frustrated as he once again puts his hand up and silently tells Cheryl to stop.

"Because you asked me to Cheryl. You asked me with your glances. The way you talk. Those little gestures." The unsub was actually getting somewhat frustrated as he spoke.

Spencer starting shaking his head and mouthing 'no' at a quick pace, motioning with his head for Derek to mute the phone.

"What are you doing?" Cheryl's attention is drawn away from the phone and she is forced to look at us.

"Do not answer this man." There was real anger inside Derek's words this time. But then again if I was telling her something multiple times and she wasn't listening to me I would be mad too.

"You asked for this. You asked for it Cheryl!"

At the unsub's words Cheryl ripped Derek's hands away from the button and I fought the brief urge to hit her for touching Derek.

"What do you want?" She yelled into the phone. Derek clenched his jaw and held his hand to his mouth in order to keep himself from talking.

"What do I want?! You! It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but I promise you we will be together."

The dial tone was all we heard next.

I walked over to a fuming Derek and I grabbed his hand so I that I could place mine in it. The simplest of touches between us could calm the other down in an instant. It was quite remarkable when you really thought about it.

I look over at Mr. Davenport. A fat lot of good he was. You would think that he would be one of the first to try and calm his daughter down and make sure she didn't say anything to the person who tried to kidnap her.

* * *

Gideon had been the one to address the father and daughter about the new rules put in place after that fiasco of a phone call. "We can't let Cheryl speak with him any further."

For reasons beyond me they both looked confused, "Why not?"

"Because Cheryl you were given instructions not to talk and you did. You became unpredictable and that could endanger your sister even further."

My words were harsh but necessary. Cheryl needed to understand that when it comes to sensitive situations if a professional tells you to stop, you stop, you don't continue what you were doing just because you can.

"That, and it's only feeding his psychosis to allow your interaction." I almost cracked a smile at Spencer's explanation. He had basically let it slip that we were all in agreement about the main reason she wasn't allowed on the phone. Which was that we had all concluded Cheryl could no longer be trusted. "Was Trish involved in any serious relationships prior to the kidnapping?"

Cheryl looked down and Mr. Davenport's face turned grim, "With the boy that was killed. They were together for two years."

"Trish didn't want me to tell you." For the love of all that is holy please tell me that you didn't leave anything out Cheryl. "They were getting engaged."

Gideon let out a deep sigh. Information like this was important to know, and we just found out when we should have known hours ago. "Well, that certainly could have been the unsub's stressor."

"What does that mean? Will someone please tell me what we're dealing with here?" Mr. Davenport looked upset, it had been a long day for the man.

A stalker Mr. Davenport. We are dealing with a stalker who has set his eyes on your daughters.

"De Clerambault's syndrome, otherwise known as erotomania. The belief that someone, usually of a higher social status but not necessarily a celebrity, is in love with you. Erotomanics believe that the objects of their affection are subtly professing their love for them through looks, gestures-"

"Glances. He said 'you asked me with your glances'." Gideon says interrupting Spencer.

That's why Spencer had freaked out during the call. He was telling us to get Cheryl off the phone right then and there because he had just figured it out.

"The unsub truly and full-heartedly believes that Cheryl and Trish are in love with him. They don't tell him this with their voices. No, with gestures and looks. He's obsessed with them."

Cheryl looked beyond scared at the end of Spencer's explanation and her father wasn't doing much better.

"In essence what we are saying is that he is the most determined kind of criminal, and will not stop until he has Cheryl." As I speak I look Cheryl dead in the eyes, hoping that now she might understand why we didn't want her to talk on the phone anymore.

Spencer, Gideon, and I left the Davenport's so that they could process what they had just been told and we met with the rest of the team in the kitchen so we could figure out where to go from here.

"Crime of obsession. Your specialty, your lead Morgan." I guess Hotch was going to let Derek take point on this one. I mean it makes sense, after all Derek is the one who figured out that the ransom drop had really been a ruse to try and get Cheryl too.

"I think we should recheck everyone on Davenport's staff against the profile of a stalker." Derek says while he casually leans up against the counter with his arms crossed.

Gideon is off to the side just peeling an orange, listening to the conversation.

"Aren't stalking behaviors pretty diverse?" Greenaway your specialty is sex crimes, why don't you stick to that and let the rest of us worry about this.

She's acting as though there aren't several things that various different kinds of stalkers have in common.

"There's overlap. Narcissistic inflated sense of self-worth, history of bad relationships, just to name a few." Derek tells her, confirming my previous thought. "At this point we can say that he's probably white, obviously male. Sophisticated speech patterns."

I bring up something that's been on my mind since the first phone call. "He may sound sophisticated but it's in a strange way. He speaks the way he thinks a sophisticated person would, meaning that he's not. I think he's just trying to sound smarter than he really is and it's starting to show."

"Whatever position of authority or level of success this guy has, he had to struggle for it." Derek concludes.

There's a brief silence and if I'm reading Hotch's face correctly he's about to say something depressing.

"We also have to face the possibility that by now-"

"Trish may already be dead." I look over at Greenaway and scowl. Was it absolutely necessary to cut Hotch off? Did she just _have_ to be the one to point that out?

God this chick really gets on my nerves.

I see Greenaway go to reach out to Gideon's hand to grab an orange slice that he had and I yanked it back. I gave her a deadpan stare when she looked back at me, trying with everything in me to convey to her that she obviously didn't have any manners.

While we were staring at each other Gideon had apparently doled out the remaining orange slices to Hotch and Derek. Greenaway looked put out and I just rolled my eyes at her. There was a hand in the corner of my eye that reached out to me and I turned to see Derek hand me an orange slice. A smile lit up my face and I took it, silently thanking my brother for grabbing me one.

And because I'm me I turned around to take a bite of it right in Greenaway's face, relishing the dark look she gave me in return. Let this be a lesson learned. Don't try to take something, if you wait it will come to you.

Look at me being all philosophical and shit.

"So far he's called every play. I say we apply some pressure, make him sweat." There it is ladies and gentlemen, the great gift of the Morgan's. We can agitate anyone at any time or place and we enjoy it.

"Well there's only one way to do that."

Don't leave me hanging Gideon, tell us what you're planning over there.

* * *

Okay so if I thought that my idea with the trunk was good than Gideon is a frikken' genius. Now I'm sure that Cheryl and Mr. Davenport are going to hate this, which is also why we didn't tell them about it in the first place, but it's a plan that is really right up my alley. In fact if I wasn't on damage control I would have asked if I could have been the one on the phone.

Gideon was seated in front of the equipment and I had placed myself in between him and the others, knowing that this could get bad really quick.

And once again the phone rang.

Gideon let it ring for a while and you could see the tension grow in Mr. Davenport until finally he reached to answer the call. "Hold on, hold on, hold on" Gideon told the man before he stood up and let the phone continue ringing.

The rest of the team made eye contact with each other hoping that Gideon's plan was going to work and that we weren't making a huge mistake.

Gideon answered the call and promptly hung up.

"What are you doing?" Mr. Davenport asked, too shocked to be upset.

Gideon didn't answer and the phone rang again. And just like last time Gideon watched it ring.

"Agent Gideon…" Mr. Davenport was now looking at the rest of us to try and see what was going on. However we all had straight faces, not letting them detect anything from us.

Gideon waited a few more seconds before he hit the answer button, "Hello?"

Immediately the unsub goes on to speak. "Tell me there was a technical issue with the line, because if you actually just hung up on m-"

And he hung up again.

Heh, this was going to be better than I imagined. I hadn't thought the unsub would be agitated yet, and here he was. It was only going to get worse from here.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mr. Davenport's question went unanswered for the second time.

The phone rang and it was Cheryl who was beginning to lose her nerve right about now, "Aren't you going to answer it?"

"Why is he doing this? What is he- What? You're going to drive this guy crazy. Just answer the phone." This time it was Hotch who was trying to get Mr. Davenport to calm down and stop talking. Gideon needed it to be quiet but I doubt they're going to be able to.

Greenaway was put on Cheryl watch but judging by the fact that Cheryl was trying to come over to the phone I would say she wasn't doing a very good job of it. "Somebody has to answer it!"

Cheryl's yell is what sets off her father and pretty soon both of them are yelling for someone to just answer the ringing phone.

Finally Mr. Davenport lunges for the phone but Derek and Hotch each grabbed one of his arms before he could make it to me. When he lunged Gideon actually got somewhat frustrated and decided to let him know, "Don't touch it!"

"He knows what he's doing" Derek tells him as they hold him away from Gideon and I.

Gideon decides that now is a good time to pick up the phone, "Davenport residence."

"Are you out of your mind? You do realize, you do understand, that I'll kill her?! Do you-"

Click. This unsub is about to throw the world's largest tantrum right about now.

Cheryl had tears in her eyes and was taking short staccato breaths in a feeble attempt to keep herself from crying. We didn't have a chance to wait long because the phone began to ring once more.

Gideon smiled, this was the one he had been waiting for. He had hung up enough times to do more than frustrate the unsub and we were all hoping that he would be angry enough that he would forget to filter his words.

"You're killing my daughter!" Is what I hear right before Mr. Davenport escapes Derek and Hotch momentarily. This time it's me who grabs him and holds him back while Derek readjusts his grip on the man. "Pick up the phone! Pick up the phone!" He continues to yell as he is forcibly dragged backwards.

"Get him quiet." Gideon tells the rest of us over Mr. Davenport's unintelligible yells.

Cheryl begins to sob and collapse in Greenaway's arms at the sight of her father being held down while yelling. It's truly a terrible sight, unavoidable if they wanted Trish back though. "You're killing her!"

And then with the calmness of a thousand patron saints Gideon turns to Mr. Davenport, the blankest look I've ever seen adorning his face as he says, "Mr. Davenport, get a hold of yourself."

While I'm staring at Gideon in slight wonder, Mr. Davenport has been reduced to tears behind me and by the lack of scuffling I'm assuming that he has also stop struggling against Derek. Which is in his best interests of course. Not much can get past Derek, the man is a brick wall when he wants to be.

Gideon waited until the only sound that could be heard was silent sobs and he finally answered the phone.

"She is dead!"

Cheryl let out a shriek and collapsed at Greenaway's feet in a fit of anguish. The only reason the rest of us were so calm was because we knew that he was bluffing. This man wanted Cheryl so that he could have a "complete set", meaning he wouldn't do anything to damage or hurt the one twin he did have.

"You hang up on me again and I rip her open!" The unsub screamed from the other side of the phone.

Normally this would be the point at which Gideon decided that he had gotten the unsub right where he wanted him, but for some reason he was still pushing with this one, "I'm sorry. You must have the wrong number."

When he hung up this time it was different. This time the rest of us, including myself, weren't too sure that this was the best course of action anymore. There is a difference between upsetting an unsub and throwing them into a homicidal rage.

"Oh come on Gideon…" Derek breathed out, beginning to feel as if this had gone too far. We didn't know the unsub well enough to be able to make a definitive statement about what he would or would not do if pushed too far.

Earlier I knew he was bluffing about Trish being dead but I had to consider the fact that if Gideon kept this up that the unsub's previous words might become a reality.

The phone did not immediately ring this time and the effect was devastating. Cheryl had been lifted and supported by Greenaway and was crying her heart out in her arms. Mr. Davenport looked as though death itself would have been more preferable as he took in shuddering breaths.

"You killed her" He whimpered, looking directly at Gideon.

I could not fault him for reaching this conclusion. However if that is the outcome of this entire night than the blame would not fall solely on Gideon's shoulders. The rest of us were just as responsible for going along with the plan. In effect Mr. Davenport had just addressed us all, and his words hit home.

"No sir" Gideon told him. He was the only one of us that was still one hundred percent sure that this was still going to end the way we planned.

"Oh, yeah. Then what- What the hell do you think you're doing?" When he said this you could practically hear the regret and defeat in his tone. He truly believed that his daughter was dead.

Gideon spared the man a small smile, that I'm sure he did not actually appreciate at the given moment, and said "I'm saving your daughter Mr. Davenport."

He turned his head and let out a watery chuckle, as if he couldn't fathom why Gideon actually thought that this method was helping his daughter.

At last the phone rang again and a collective sigh of relief passed through all of us.

"Have a little faith." Gideon told us all before he answered the phone. Hopefully he was done hanging up now. I doubt the Davenports would be able to handle another round of this.

"Put Cheryl on the phone." The unsub's whole tone of voice suggested that this was in fact the calm before the storm and that shit was really going to start flying on his end if he did not get what he wanted.

Gideon made a tsking sound and spoke nonchalantly, "No. You're finished talking to Cheryl."

The unsub scoffed. "Listen to that tone of authority. Just like your published work, Agent Gideon."

I turn my head towards the phone. We never gave him our names.

"Fascinating to hear the same arrogant quality in your own voice. You are a bit of a pedant, Jason, a bit didactic?" I turned my head to stare at Hotch in shocked confusion, a look that was reflected back to me. It was one thing to know his last name, but to know Gideon's first name was another thing entirely. I did not like where this road was taking us.

"Well that's a very interesting conclusion" Gideon goes on to converse with the unsub, like he's not the slightest bit worried about this recent development. "You sound intelligent, and you certainly sound educated, and… we both know that's not true."

"Oh I know all about all of you. The ambitious Agent Hotchner? Do you wanna be director of the FBI someday, Agent Hotchner? Would you step on Jason Gideon to get there? I think you would. Posttraumatic stress is a very good excuse. Even your sick, pregnant wife can't get you to leave your post."

Gideon looks like he's just hit the jackpot while I'm inching my way closer to the phone, fighting my instincts to hang up. This information wasn't common knowledge and I didn't know how or why this guy knew it but I didn't want to stick around and find out.

"Jason Gideon, an expert in the criminal psyche, yet unable to diagnose the autistic leanings of the very insecure Dr. Reid. Well, maybe he can make money counting cards in Las Vegas."

He did not just go there. I can feel my fingernails bite into my skin from where I clenched my hands into fists. I was gonna give this guy a lesson in true fear when I got my hands on him.

"The lovely Elle was promoted too soon. She doesn't have what it takes to make it in the BAU's club." On that we can agree. But his comments about Spencer still make it so that he's at the top of my list of people I'm going to put the fear of god into. "You're no threat to me, you're no threat to anyone." Greenaway looks pissed off at this, but it's not like she can say anything about it.

The unsub then moves onto me, "The beautifully damaged Ariadne Morgan, an empty little doll playing the role of solider. She desperately looks for a place to belong, so she clings to her older brother in an attempt to find a home."

You know what? It's not as bad as it could have been, he's technically not even wrong.

"And token Derek Morgan wants to be taken seriously, but he is just a pumped-up side of beef." Derek lets out a sarcastic chuckle but I do not. In fact I'm pretty sure if I could have I would have reached through the phone and strangled the man on the other end.

You want to talk shit about me, that's fine. But I draw the line at Spencer and my brother. By this point I was standing directly over the phone and Gideon was looking at me in confusion.

"I know who you are, I know how you think, and I know what to do next! Do you?"

Before he could hang up I spoke. "Hello this is the damaged little doll speaking. If you knew how I thought than you would have been able to get Cheryl, but you didn't, because you're not smart enough to know how we think. That's why you lost. You talk a big talk, now let's see your walk."

I disconnect the call before he could respond to my taunt. I wasn't going to let him think that he had somehow one upped us.

There was a good thirty seconds of silence before Mr. Davenport decided to voice, what would be no doubt a lot of questions. "What the hell was that? Why did he say he knows what to do next? Is he going to hurt my daughter?" The last question was asked with a shaky voice while tears made their way back into his eyes.

Gideon shook his head in an effort to comfort Mr. Davenport. "He was grandstanding. We have learned more in the last five minutes than in the last twenty four hours."

This however did not comfort Mr. Davenport because he got to his feet and tried to move past Derek and Hotch to reach Gideon. Key word being tried. "Oh, really?" he asked once he finally accepted that he wasn't going to get past, "Well, I don't understand. Why is he focused on you right now?"

"Because we are interfering in his relationship with the girls" Derek explains to him.

"He said he knows all about you." Yes, thank you Mr. Davenport. What is it with him always wanting to remind us of things that just happened? We heard it all the first time, didn't miss it somehow.

"He knew all about Greenaway, that's for certain, but he didn't know all about the rest of us. That's just what he believes." I can help but chime in. Insulting Greenaway has become ingrained in me at this point, it comes effortlessly.

"He profiled us Mr. Davenport, he was trying to show us how smart he was" Derek goes on to try to explain to Mr. Davenport what had just happened. "But it seems like Ariadne," Derek motioned his head in my general direction, "may have ruined that for him in the end."

Damn right I did.

"Oftentimes the best profilers are the unsubs themselves. They're the ones who are able to walk into an arcade full of children and pinpoint the boy or girl that can be led out quietly." I felt like Spencer had been unusually silent before his comment. I couldn't help but think that it might have had something to do with that last phone call.

I looked over to give him a significant look, hoping that he would understand the meaning behind my words, "For the most part they make good profilers, but not all the time, and certainly not now. This unsub was wrong about a lot of things but spoke as if he wasn't in order to come off with more confidence. And he's definitely not the best because he just gave away his entire game play."

Mr. Davenport looked confused but Cheryl was smart because she looked over at Gideon for the answer to the unasked question swirling in her eyes.

"He told us how to find him."

It was like Gideon's words sparked a fire in Mr. Davenport because hope lit up in the man and determination came flooding back to him as he turned to stare at Gideon, waiting for him to go into further detail.

Yeah good luck with that. Gideon likes keeping people in suspense.

* * *

"You said you knew how to find him, that you were gonna save my daughter." Mr. Davenport had gotten tired of waiting around for answers. He walked towards Gideon, however I was still standing between them so he really only ended up getting in my face. "Why don't you get out there and do something? What are you standing around here for? Everybody's standing around here, looking around." He got louder and I could see Spencer go to stand from his position at the table and Derek begin to take a step towards us.

My boys were protective. It was sweet, but I could handle Evan Davenport just fine.

"Mr. Davenport-" Gideon begins to talk but Davenport's not in the mood to hear anything other than what he wants to hear. Which is that we are about to leave to go rescue his daughter this very second.

"No. Don't, don't condescend me. Don't patronize me." He said motioning to lift his finger to point it in Gideon's face over my shoulder.

He had only gotten his hand raised about halfway before I was shoving it back down to his side. "You would do well to calm yourself sir" I told him coolly.

Another agent, whose name I think was Shyre or Shyer something like that, swooped in to lead Mr. Davenport away from us, "Evan, everybody is doing the best that they can. Come on, let's take a break."

The rest of us waited till the room had cleared out before we began to talk about everything that had occurred over the past half an hour.

"For the suspect to know that much about us, he has to be one of us." Derek is the first one to make the connection, and it's for that very reason that we waited until no one else was in the room. It's a big accusation to make and not everyone takes too kindly to it.

"I'm gonna have Garcia do a search of the New Haven FBI field office. The guy we're looking for knows this house, he knows the family." Hotch tells us, putting together a plan for us to follow.

"There's seven hundred agents in New Haven and another seventy in satellite offices. Davenport knows quite a few of them." How on earth did Spencer find this kind of stuff out?

I mentally winced for Penelope. That was a lot of people to have to sort through and I glad I don't have to be the one to do it.

"While we're narrowing the list, Cheryl can't stay here." Greenaway buts in, "If he's one of us he has access, weapons, and you bet he's got a strategy."

Well the solution to all that is quite simple really.

"So what I'm hearing is that we can't trust anyone but each other and that Cheryl needs to be moved to a safe house in the meantime. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that half of us go with her and half stay here to hold down the fort."

Hotch maintained eye contact with me to the point where I began to have some self-doubt. I was moments away from fidgeting when he finally spoke up. "Elle's going to go with you and Derek to take Cheryl to the safe house. Is that going to be an issue?" Hotch wasn't upset in anyway, he was genuinely curious as to if it was possible for Greenaway and I to work together.

"That remains to be seen Boss Man" I smirk, "It's going to be a learning day for all of us."

I didn't even let Greenaway's chuckle wipe the look off my face. Hotch realized that this was the best that he would get out of me at the moment and just shook his head before walking over to Gideon to discuss what they would do next.

"Let's get ready. Elle why don't you go get Cheryl ready. Reid you can come help Ari and I get the car loaded up." Derek said rounding us up to divvy up the responsibilities between the four of us.

I remained in my spot until Greenaway had walked out of the room before I grabbed Derek's arm as he went to pass by me. I waited until he met my eyes so that he could see how serious I was in this moment. "You know he was wrong don't you? You are so much more than just the side muscle. I've been watching this team for quite a while and we wouldn't be able to do half or all of this if it wasn't for you." Without turning my head I addressed Spencer as well, "And don't think I forgot about you back there. You're the heart and soul of this team Spence, don't ever forget that."

Two hands made their way to the top of my head as both of them ruffled my hair affectionately. "Alright enough" I tell them, ducking to escape. "We've got an unsub to lure out, so let's show some hustle. I wanna be in my own home by tomorrow."

* * *

The drive to the safe house hadn't been all that bad to be honest. Of course it had some bumps, which had mainly just been Greenaway thinking that she was going to ride shotgun. That thought had only lasted a hot second before I had corrected it.

Some of the other agents were accompanying us but we knew that we could only truly trust each other with Cheryl so we planned for her to always have at least one of us with her at all times. The BAU still had primary authority so telling them that we needed to stay with Cheryl wasn't going to be hard.

We pulled up to the safe house, which was actually a really nice looking house on the outside, and all the men flocked out to escort us ladies inside. Derek was the only one who didn't act as though we were all damsels in distress. I mean two of us are FBI agents, and as much as I am loathe to admit it there is no way that Greenaway could be an agent if she lacked the skills needed to protect herself in some capacity.

The New Haven agents went and secured the outside perimeter and the interior of the house while my team and I escorted Cheryl into one of the tiny rooms.

Greenaway was explaining to Cheryl how these situations typically go when my phone started buzzing. I pulled it out of my back pocket and saw that it was Spencer who was calling. I quickly hit answer and walked back out of the room so I didn't disrupt anyone.

"Hey Spence, sorry I forgot to text you, we literally just got here like a minute ago." I started talking the second I answered, not giving him time to freak out on me and give me another patent Spencer Reid lecture about the importance of communication.

I only forgot to call once and he has never let me forget it.

"That's okay, I was just getting a little worried because it just seemed like it was taking longer than usual."

I let out a quiet laugh, "Well we did have to drive without headlights in the middle of the night. You know how cautious of a driver Derek can be."

"I happen to think that he is a very good driver, too many people don't actually pay the proper attention when they drive, did you know that? That only around a third-"

"Is that Reid?" A voice from behind me asked, and I almost jumped right out of my skin. I turned to see Greenaway standing behind me. "If it is him I need to talk to him about something." Taking note of my suspicious look she was swift to defend herself, "It's completely legitimate. It's a question about the unsub."

I handed her my phone without a complaint, which earned me a look of mild shock before she snapped out of it and grabbed the device I was holding out to her. She needed my phone not for herself but for Cheryl and that is the only reason I gave it over without so much as a word.

"Hey Reid, its Elle. I want to run something by you real quick. So the New Haven agents did a bug sweep right when we arrived and yet the unsub seems to know all about us. Do you know what non-local interaction is?"

Knowing Spencer, he does.

Spencer had obviously replied because Greenaway was steamrolling into her next point. "How can he be holding Trish prisoner and still know exactly what we're talking about? There's gotta be a listening device, I mean they swept the room but brought in their own equipment."

There's silence before he head flies up and she locks eyes with me in a panic. I knew exactly what her eyes were saying as soon as I saw them, and it didn't spell out anything good for us.

"Greenaway please tell me you're not saying what I think you're saying. Please tell me that we didn't just bring the unsub with us to the safe house."

Greenaway looked as panicked as I was. "I think we did. But…I might have an idea."

I suppose her plan is better than no plan.

* * *

I was sitting on the bed with Cheryl while Greenaway hid behind the door. We didn't have time to find Derek and we didn't want to risk calling him if the unsub was nearby. Cheryl was understandably nervous but had calmed down significantly when we told her that both of us would be in the room with her the entire time.

There were footsteps outside the door and I gave Greenaway a nod to indicate that she should get ready for a possible confrontation. There was a knock at the door before it creaked open and revealed Agent Shyre, who took the lead on this case.

I was honestly not expecting it to be him. He had seemed so normal.

He looked surprised to see me, "Oh, um I was-I was just wondering if I could have a moment with Cheryl alone?"

"I'm sorry sir but I am under strict orders not to leave her side. But you're welcome to talk to her here, just not alone."

I could see a spark of fire in his eyes as he tried not to explode at me. I wanted to cuff him here and now but I didn't actually have any proof at the current moment. I needed to get him as angry as Gideon did earlier.

"I really only need a moment with her. It's okay Cheryl knows me, she'll be safe with me."

Yeah I really doubt that buddy.

"You want me out of the room so that you can what? Take her like you did Patricia?"

His eyes widened at my question. "No! What are you talking about? I'm here to help keep Cheryl safe." He tried to smile at me as if that would charm me into leaving and forgetting my previous accusation.

"You see I told you that you weren't smart, I told you that you didn't know how I think and it's pretty obvious at this point that I was correct." I watched as his hands clenched into fists and a vein in his neck began to pulse. "Did you think that we wouldn't take every precaution when it came to Cheryl's safety? I told you to show us your walk and so far it's not very impressive." Now I held his entire focus, not an ounce of it was on Cheryl.

He dropped all pretenses as he began to sneer at me and take a few steps closer, "You stupid bitch. If it wasn't for you and Hercules out there I would have had her by now." He pulled out a pocket knife and clicked it open.

Bingo, that's close enough to a confession for me.

Greenaway stepped out from behind the door and held her gun up to his back, "Put the knife down."

The storm in his eyes grew but all emotion dropped from his face. He was pissed that there was two of us who had outsmarted him. He raised him arms up and slowly turned to face Greenaway, while he did that I unclipped my own gun and took aim. Cheryl was cowering in the corner of the bed.

"You don't understand. You don't understand my relationship with these girls-" Shyre tried to explain his way out of all of this.

"I said put the knife down." This may have been one of the only times I've actually seen Greenaway look deadly serious.

Shyre went to lean down to put the knife on the floor before he sprung up and darted at Greenaway, throwing her against the wall and knocking her gun to the floor.

I sent a warning shot into the wall right above his head causing him to come to a complete stop. Before he could even turn around Greenaway had kicked his feet out from under him, grabbed her gun, and stood back up aiming at him.

"Now that you've got that all out of your system I'm going to ask you one time, where is Trish?"

He remained silent and I realized something. There is no way that Derek wouldn't have come running once he heard all the noise that we had just made.

"Greenaway go find Derek, I've got this guy. He has to be outside or something. He'll want to be here to bring Shyre in." I didn't want to tell her that I was slightly worried but I wouldn't leave Cheryl in here with just Greenaway. I was the one who had the best chance at subduing him again and I knew that Derek would want me to stay and keep Cheryl safe.

Greenaway gave me a nod before clipping her gun back to her hip and walking out of the room.

I didn't have to wait long before I found out where Derek was and why he hadn't come running.

"He's over here! He's fine, just unconscious. It look like he's been tazed." Greenaway yelled from somewhere deeper in the house.

My heart shuttered in my chest and it seemed that somehow the room got a little bit darker.

"Cheryl go help Greenaway. And shut the door behind you." The lack of emotion in my voice motivated the girl to leave the room like someone lit a fire under her ass. However she did as I asked even in her haste to escape what was about to be a really volatile situation.

"Now…" I regarded the man on the ground with sharp eyes, "you and me are gonna have a little chat about Trish. But don't worry, you might not remember most of it by the time we're done."

* * *

I watched from a distance as the medics wheeled Trish out of what looked to be an abandoned building. Mr. Davenport and Cheryl were right by her side as they spoke to her. Derek had to be taken to the hospital for a quick check up to see how he was doing after being tazed.

Gideon and Spencer had gone into the building to help get Trish back, and hung back while the family drove off with the medics. Greenaway was milling around here somewhere and Hotch was waiting in the car doing god knows what on the phone.

"Hey, how did you guys get Shyre to give up Trish's location?" Spencer asked me when he and Gideon got closer.

I gave him a smirk, "We got creative."

"Speaking of which, does anyone care to explain why Shyre had a busted lip, a black eye, and bruises all over?" Gideon asked while staring directly at me. I don't know why he bothered asking the question in the first place, clearly he already knew it was me.

That guy tazed Derek.

My brother was found unconscious on the floor of a safe house. And the man who caused it was still in the vicinity, unfortunately for him.

I just looked at Gideon and cocked my head slightly to the right. "I have no idea. He did get in a slight scuffle with Greenaway and she had to put him on his back, but other than that I don't know what would've caused it."

I didn't bother sticking around, knowing that he would just try and pry the truth out of me. I'd talk only if and when I wanted to. I hooked my arm around Spencer's and I led us both to the car while Gideon followed from behind. All we had left was to collect Greenaway and go pick up Derek before we could head home.

* * *

Before any of us could actually go to our respective houses we had to fill out some paperwork about the case. Gideon, Hotch, and Spencer had all finished theirs and had left for the night. I had finished mine a couple hours ago but Derek had a large stack on his desk so I had decided to stay and help him.

Derek was replacing his bandage when Greenaway had made her way over to us. "You all right?" She asked, watching as Derek grunted his way back in to his seat. "You took a taser hit."

I couldn't help but stare at her. Did she think that he had somehow forgotten that he had been tazed?

"Yeah, I know I did. So what?"

"Wow you two are like the same person" she muttered underneath her breath. I was filled with unexpected pride. My brother was my biggest role model, so for someone to tell me that I was just like him meant the world to me.

"No one expects you to finish the Davenport file tonight."

I appreciate the fact that she's so concerned for Derek, but he wouldn't be here unless he wanted to be.

Derek chuckles but I'm the one who answers her, "Better to do it now than later. It's still fresh on his mind and he'll get more of the small details correct."

"Ain't nothing like fifty thousand volts in your back to keep your motor running right." Derek leans back, suddenly becoming serious, "You know, I'm just…I'm lucky as hell that bastard didn't gut me when I was unconscious."

A shiver runs down my spine at the very thought of that.

"Have you lost your faith in me dear brother? For you to even think that I would have let Shyre do anything more than mildly incapacitate you is the real tragedy of this situation." I casually play off the fear that his words caused me.

I was here so that Derek wouldn't have to worry about anything.

I stood up out of the chair I had brought to Derek's desk, "I'd like to speak with you Greenaway" I motion towards the doors and she begins to head in that direction. "Derek when I get back I'll take half of that ridiculous pile of files on your desk."

I don't wait for his answer as I walk over to where Greenaway is waiting for me. I take a deep breath in before addressing her. "I wanted to tell you that while I'm grateful you helped my brother today, it doesn't change things between us."

She scoffs and shakes her head, "I don't understand why you still don't like me. I mean what is it? Are you scared of a little competition? Too used to being the only girl here?"

I leaned in closer to her face. It had been a long day and I wasn't interested in letting her rile me up any further. "It's not about whether I like you or not. It's about the fact that I don't think that you belong on this team. I welcome a healthy competition with people who can actually endure the game, and I don't think you can. That's what this is about."

She clenched her jaw as she glared at me. "Don't worry yourself about me, I'll be just fine. I can handle more than you think."

She's too concerned with making sure that nobody ever views her as weak to understand what I'm trying to say. "Yeah well your eyes tell a much different story. One day, I don't know when, but one day you're going to see something or go through something that you're not going to be able to handle. I can tell by the look in your eyes when you do this job that whatever that thing may turn out to be, will absolutely _ruin_ you." I take a pause so that she can truly hear my words. "And contrary to popular belief I don't actually want that for you. But even more than that, I won't let whatever breaks you end up hurting this team."

I turn my head so that I'm looking at Derek's back, "If that means I have to throw you to the figurative wolves than I will. There is nothing I won't do for them. It would do you some good to never forget that."

I began walking back to Derek, leaving Greenaway by the door. I picked up my half of the files and sat back down, giving Derek a small smile.

The smile that he gave me in return reassured me that what I was doing was going to be worth it all.

* * *

A/N: I'm really sorry about the late upload. I had some health problems and even ended up in the hospital earlier last week. Typically it would not take me this long but my recovery took longer than expected.


	7. Chapter 7

*Small Note: The point of view goes back and forth between Ariadne and Derek in this one. That doesn't always happen but for this chapter it just made more sense for it to be that way*

* * *

 **Chapter 7: L.D.S.K.**

 **Ariadne POV:**

Today was not going to be a good day by any standards. Spencer had failed his gun qualification test the other day, so he was going to be embarrassed around us as well as the fact that it was safe to say that he was also still slightly agitated with me.

I let a small groan escape my lips at the thought, drawing Derek's attention to me. "What's wrong with you? You were fine like a second ago."

I lifted my eyes up to meet his lazily and noticed that we had gained Greenaway's attention as well. "I'm just reminding myself that in about five minutes Spencer's going to come in here with the worst mood of the century. But you know other than that I'm golden." I couldn't help but be slightly sarcastic, I was kinda stressed about the whole thing and sarcasm seemed to be my only default setting.

Derek's eyes held a whole new spark of interest and I had the renewed desire to groan all over again. "Does this have anything to do with his gun qualifications? Because I thought that he was going to ask you to train him so that he actually had a chance of passing them this time." He tilted his head to the side, "You did train him right?"

I bit the inside of my cheek as I minutely shook my head no. I could see surprise take over Derek's features and quickly began to defend myself before he could say anything. "It wasn't that I didn't want to, it was that I honestly couldn't. Spencer needs someone who is going to be able to be patient with him and be able to give him the time that he needs. I'm not the best person to teach him, not when it comes to shooting guns. I'm more of the classic just point, aim and shoot while he needs to understand everything about the gun first. He tends to overthink everything and this isn't one of the times when he should. I didn't want to get frustrated with him all because I'm incapable of being patient."

It was word vomit at its finest but Derek still understood the basic point I was trying to convey as I painfully stumbled through my explanation.

"So not only did he fail the qualifications, but his best friend in the _whole wide world_ left him hanging out to dry."

I let my head drop to the desk below me. Derek was already cracking jokes and the twinkle in his eyes meant that he was far from being done.

"What? Was it something I said?"

I love my brother, but sometimes he can be a grade A jackass.

Derek and Greenaway laughed as I let out another throaty groan. I was too stressed to even consider Greenaway's presence, so I kept my head down.

The side door behind Greenaway's desk opened and I shot up thinking that it was Spencer but breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it was just Gideon.

"Reid failed his qualification."

I throw my hands up in extreme frustration. I mean, _really_? Was is really necessary for Greenaway to blurt it out like that. Especially when she herself just found out about it by eavesdropping on someone else's conversation.

Gideon just spared a glance at Greenaway before he continued on his path up to his office. "He can re-test in two weeks" he said as he passed us by.

I go to turn my head to face Derek when I notice Spencer pulling open the doors to the bullpen. "Not a goddamn word outta your mouth Derek!" I whisper to him frantically. The last thing that I needed was Derek saying something and putting Spencer in a worse mood than he already was.

Derek held up one of his hands like he was swearing in at court, "Alright, not a word I got it."

Spencer walked briskly to his desk with his hands tucked tightly into his pants pockets, ignoring all of us. I couldn't help but gaze at him sadly. I knew he was upset with me but he had always said hello and given me a hug in the mornings.

I heard a drawer open and turned to see Derek pull something out before he closed it back up, stood and put his hand behind his back as he made his way over to Spencer.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no, no, no.

I quickly chucked a pencil sitting on my desk at the back of his head when he passed my desk. But all Derek did was turn to the side slightly and smirk at me. It was the look of someone who was going to do the exact opposite of what they'd been told.

"Hey." Derek made his voice softer when he addressed the somber Spencer, "We're all here for you."

Spencer turned his head to give me a very pointed stare before looking back at Derek as if to indicate that not everyone had been there for him.

I didn't know what else I could do too fix this. I had already explained my reasons to Spencer, it's not like I just left him in the dark or anything. I'd even apologized on numerous occasions and asked Hotch to teach him instead.

"I'm serious" Derek persisted. "If you ever need anything…" My eyes widened in disbelief as he brought his hands out from behind him to reveal a metal whistle attached to a lanyard. He reached out and placed it around Spencer's neck and blew it real fast. A high pitched sound filled the bull pen, "Just blow on that." Derek chuckled before he turned to walk back to his desk.

I was unable to take my eyes off of the whistle and I waited with baited breath for Spencer's reaction. I didn't dare meet his gaze though, not wanting to see the further anger and embarrassment that would surely be there.

Without another word Spencer fumbled with the whistle trying to rip it off of him before he threw it to the side and turned his back towards Derek and I. I wanted to go over there and cheer him up, let him know that there was nothing to be embarrassed over but I knew that anything I did or said would be unwanted right now.

Before I could move onto scolding Derek, JJ and Hotch made their way down the stairs with a stack of folders in their hands. "Ok, Franklin Park, Des Plaines, yesterday afternoon. Three victims shot at distance. It's the third such shooting in two weeks." While she spoke JJ started passing us the folders of our new case and we all quickly flipped them open to begin skimming them, momentarily forgetting about what had just occurred.

"A sniper?"

Derek cleared his throat at Greenaway's question. "We don't use that word."

Greenaway looked up at him confused, "Why not?"

"To be honest I've always found the reason to be kind of stupid but rules are rules after all." I glanced up in Greenaway's direction as I spoke to her. I was making an effort to be more civil around her. Like I had told her, I didn't want her to get hurt or anything of the sort. And I realized that even though I may not accept her I could still show basic kindness towards her. A sharp fleeting sense of guilt hit me as a look of shock crossed her face. She wasn't used to me showing her any kind of positive attention.

"The public perception is that the FBI doesn't have an exemplary record with snipers" JJ went on to further explain.

"Besides, a sniper is a professional marksman, these guys aren't snipers." Hotch nodded his head in my direction, "While most aren't there is the occasional one who does have a background as a marksman, but we usually defer to Ariadne for those ones because she has the most history with them."

The simple reminder of me knowing my way around guns caused Spencer to send me yet another heated look, and I internally groaned.

No one else saw the exchange and the conversation continued without a hitch. "Well what do we call them then?"

"Long distance serial killers, otherwise known as an L.D.S.K." I turn my head to avoid looking at Spencer. "Don't forget that Greenaway because apparently if you say the word sniper people freak the fuck out and start protests before you can even blink. And let's not even get started on the fact that we have never actually caught one of these guys with a profile before."

Hotch looked over at me with exasperation. This had been a common complaint of mine when it came to these situations. We had the same success rate with L.D.S.K.'s as we did with snipers, so what's the point of calling them different things?

"Debrief in five." Hotch told us and we all began gathering our things to take with us upstairs to the conference room.

I picked up my messenger bag and stood awkwardly to the side of Spencer's desk hoping to get a moment to speak with him alone. I tried to gather any courage I had while I waited for him to notice me. While I stood there Greenaway and Derek left and JJ had gone with Hotch to wait upstairs with Gideon.

When Spencer was finally ready he looked over and his eyebrows furrowed as he realized that we were the only two left in the bull pen. I shot him a tentative smile and for a moment I thought that he might actually give me a chance to talk to him, but he just brushed past me like I wasn't even standing there.

I stood there slightly gaping and let out a small scoff, he really just ignored me. I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around it.

I had explained to him why I was unable to do it, I found someone else who had just as much skill as I did to teach him, I even stayed up all night on the phone with him last week because he was so stressed out about this test.

And he just ignored me. Walked past like I was nothing more than some stranger and not his best friend.

I could feel my fingernails bite into the palm of my hands from where my fists had unintentionally clenched in astonishment. Anger burned hot in the pit of my stomach but I quickly checked myself.

If this is the way he wants to play this than fine. You know I don't deserve this, I did nothing wrong this time.

I kept repeating it to myself like a mantra as I made my way into the conference room and pulled up a seat next to Derek without making eye contact with anyone.

Apparently Hotch was waiting on me to enter the room because as soon as I took my seat he began the debriefing. "Two weeks, three shooting incidents, six victims, all shot in the abdomen. First and only fatality, Henry Sachs." He pointed the remote at the screen and a picture of the man and his family popped up, "Married, father of three, shot in a shopping center parking lot." He clicked the button and a new set of photos took its place on the screen. "Nine days later, Doug Miller and Kevin Parks were playing basketball at a community center." Hotch clicked it one more time before he set the remote down on the table, "Franklin Park four days later, Jerry Middleton, Kate Murray, and Tim Reilly. Des Plaines police have found no link between any of the victims."

"Ballistics?" Derek asked, looking up from his folder.

"He's using frangible rounds which fragment on impact, making ballistics comparisons impossible" Hotch replied.

"Well I can tell you one thing right now." I piped up making sure I held direct eye contact with Hotch and Gideon, "This isn't just some off the street everyday kind of guy. He knows what he's doing and how to avoid getting caught. I mean they taught us a little about frangible rounds in the military, but they had only been approved for training. They weren't sanctioned for actual missions, something about the unreliability of the success rate. So I'm not saying this guy is military, but he's not inexperienced that's for certain."

While I spoke Hotch and Derek each were making their own little notes in their case files and Gideon nodded to let me know that he got it.

If this guy was only using frangible rounds than I didn't actually know how much help I was going to be for this, unfortunately it just wasn't my area of expertise.

"The good news is that all the park victims are gonna make it. The bad news is that none of them saw anything." I shrugged my shoulders at JJ's words. I didn't expect that they would have seen anything. From what it looked like this guy was targeting people who weren't paying very much attention to their surroundings. "However, one of the patients does have an intact bullet lodged in his spine."

That made me pause. Are they waiting to for us to make our way down there before they pull the bullet out or what? Because we don't actually have to be there for the procedure, just as long as we can look at the bullet afterwards. "And what would be the reason that it hasn't been removed yet?"

"Well there's disagreement among surgical staff as to whether they can remove the slug without paralyzing the patient."

There was a small part of me that wanted to laugh at the explanation. I wondered if they had even asked the actual patient for his perspective. Were the staff arguing about it because the man didn't want to be paralyzed, or where they arguing over who among them was most qualified for completing this surgery without any additional complications?

In case it wasn't obvious, I don't particularity like doctors or surgeons. All the ones that I've met have been extremely self-righteous with a god complex on the side.

"Without a useful witness or solid piece of forensic evidence, the profile is all we have to go off of" Derek said letting out a sigh.

I shook my head, he said it as if we haven't had to do the same exact thing multiple times before.

* * *

On the jet all of the photos of the victims and snapshots from the crime scenes had been placed on one of the tables and we were all gathered around them. Since at this point in time there was no concrete evidence that we could use, we had to come up with the profile based completely off of what resided in these files. Which in a court of law would be speculation at best.

"L.D.S.K.'s are so rare that we haven't even been able to build a standard profile. However here's what we do know, they're always male and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience as well as always contacting the police or media." Hotch's voice suddenly rang out in the jet and I admit with great embarrassment that it actually managed to startle me.

Once I calmed my racing heart I tuned back into the conversation at hand. "All serial killers attempt to relieve the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site… to interact with the body."

This time there was no hiding the disgust that colored my face. Do you ever wish you could go back in time and not hear what you just heard? Because right now I'm wishing that I had borrowed Derek's headphones.

Gideon goes on to further explain. For a minute I'm actually afraid that he's going to expound on the "interaction", which is something that I am positive that nobody on this jet wants. "Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which by definition long distance serial killers don't have."

I know that I could be taking note of all of this for future reference but I couldn't get over the fact that there are people out there, that the BAU has come in contact with, that actually go and mess around with the bodies of those who they killed. I mean don't get me wrong, I knew it had happened a few times over the course of history, but the thought of actually coming into contact with one of them made me sick.

"The Beltway shooters left a tarot card at one of their crime scenes. Later they called a tip hotline, which ultimately led to their capture." I don't know how Hotch retains all this information at the top of his head, but damn if it isn't helpful.

Derek shifted to look up at Hotch, "But our unsub hasn't contacted anybody."

"Well if we are using the standard profile for this guy then logically he should be doing so in the very near future. However we should plan our next course of action while we wait." Honestly I was trying to keep a low profile with the whole Spencer thing and stay silent and out of the way, but sitting here twiddling my thumbs would help exactly no one.

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile, sometimes it is what they do not do" Gideon reminds us all from his seat.

"He doesn't kill his victims."

It's funny how you can get used to a certain voice and be able to recognize it anywhere. I thought that my days of being captivated by the mere sound of Spencer's voice were over, but I guess if I haven't heard it in a while that all changes. I wanted to look at him, I really did. I wanted to ask him to forgive me, to at least talk things out with me. But the memory of him walking right passed me anchored my feet to the floor and kept my mouth firmly shut.

I knew that I had resolved myself to let him come talk to me when he was over being a child about the whole thing, but that was easier said than done.

"The main question that we have is does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target? Specifically does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot?"

Hotch's question wasn't one that necessarily required an answer, honestly most of them didn't, but my mouth was moving before I could even think about it. "Skill doesn't have anything to do with a head shot. It's not hard to aim for the head, the hard part is making yourself pull the trigger."

Or at least it should be a hard thing to do.

* * *

Once we had landed Hotch and Gideon quickly split us all up into teams. One would go to the scene of the last shooting, and the other would head over to the hospital to speak to the surgeons about the bullet lodged in the victim's spine.

As luck would have it I was able to avoid being on Spencer's team, who were headed to the park. However that meant that I didn't get to go with Derek and instead was stuck with Greenaway.

"Come on Barry you don't know that!"

It was rapidly becoming clear that Spencer's silent treatment would have been preferable over hearing what sounded to be a heated argument between the two doctors we were supposed to be meeting with.

The lady who was showing us into the room quickly made our presence known, "Good morning doctors!" She practically had to yell at first to gain their attention. She sounded exasperated, like this was something that she had been hearing for the past day or so.

Once we all walked inside I lifted my head up to look at the two men and was instantly taken aback. Standing in front of me was most likely the creepiest looking man I had ever had the unfortunate privilege of laying eyes upon.

He looked like a tall, dark haired, greasy version of some forgotten Viking from long ago. Add on the vacant look in his eyes and I was without a doubt officially uncomfortable.

In my assessment of the man I almost missed the other doctor's introduction, "Forgive us, we were just reviewing the cases at hand." This one was much easier to stare at, he looked like someone's kind older grandfather.

"This is Dr. Neil Erstadt, Chief of Surgery" the lady said, motioning to the older man who had just spoken. "And this," she said pointing over to the creature lurking in the corner, "is our trauma specialist Dr. Barry Landman."

JJ had opened her mouth to most likely introduce herself to Dr. Erstadt when she too caught sight of Landman. Her mouth promptly shut and she unconsciously shifted backwards into me.

I didn't blame her one bit.

"These are the FBI profilers, Agents Gideon, Jareau, Greenaway, and Morgan." I was glad that this lady had introduced us, because I was too preoccupied with assessing how big of a threat Landman could be. I couldn't help it, this dude looked like he killed people for fun, not helped to save them.

Gideon, the brave man, went and shook Dr. Erstadt's hand before moving on to shake Landman's. Gideon was left hanging though when Landman went on to say, "Ah, you'll forgive me. I don't shake. My hands, you understand?"

No I do not understand, because that had to be the vaguest sentence ever uttered. The way he said it made it seem like soap had yet to be invented and he couldn't simply go and wash his hands.

Gideon didn't outwardly show it, but after studying him for the past year it was easy for me to pick up on his more subtle moods, and this one reeked of suspicion. But all he did was give a little half smile, "Of course."

"So as psychological profilers what exactly are you looking for?" Landman asked Gideon. I couldn't tell if he was genuinely curious or if he was being condescending.

Did I mention that I don't like doctors a whole lot?

"How the victims were shot. That could reveal the shooter's signature behavior."

While Gideon was speaking I moved so that JJ and Greenaway were slightly behind me, not wanting Landman to be able to focus on them if he looked over in our direction. It was almost instinctual for me at this point, and I suppose I must have slowly been getting used to Greenaway's continued presence because I didn't even hesitate to include her with JJ.

Dr. Erstadt was pointing as the various x-rays that covered the board, capturing the men's attention. "These separate wound channels blossom from the entrance wounds. You can see the trauma's extensive."

Gideon walked up to the board to get a closer look at the x-rays, "You preformed the surgeries?"

"I did on patient Miller. I consulted with Dr. Landman on the others. The intact slug lodged between L4-L5 vertebrae. Any attempt to remove it would likely leave the patient paralyzed." Dr. Erstadt went on to explain.

"In _your_ opinion" Landman stated firmly. Clearly this is what the debate we had been informed of earlier had been about.

All of us were watching Landman including Gideon, who now looked more intrigued than anything. "Do you disagree?"

For the first time since we arrived an actual spark of something lit up Landman's eyes. "With the right surgeon, there is no risk" he said, clearly hinting at himself.

Ah, so that spark was arrogance.

"There's always risk" Dr. Erstadt firmly reminded Landman. From the looks of things, mainly the dark circles under his eyes, I would say that this argument had been going on since the victim first arrived here.

The woman, whose name I never got, was swift to interject before what I assume would be a full blown argument could occur. I wondered how long she had been playing peacemaker to these two. "What significance does the bullet have in building the profile?"

This was a question I could answer, but I wasn't going to. So when Gideon looked over at me I just tilted my head in a silent invitation for him to continue.

I didn't feel like pulling Landman's attention over to us just yet.

"Well, even if we can't get a ballistics match we can get a rifle type, and the specific type of rifle the suspect uses, that could be very significant to the profile."

The woman nodded to herself for a moment before looking over at Landman, "You believe you can safely perform the surgery Dr. Landman?"

This guy looked almost offended to be asked such a question, "I know I can."

I rolled my eyes. Overconfidence could be a killer sometimes.

* * *

After a few more minutes of arguing back and forth it was decided that Landman would perform the surgery, so the rest of us were allowed to use the conference room to wait in. We were given notepads to write with, which JJ seemed to be using to the fullest judging by how fast she was writing.

I figured that I didn't need to write anything and was just resting in one of the chairs. I was bored out of my mind though, wishing I could be outside with Derek right about now. He always made sure that I was never anything less than entertained when he was around.

Sure there have been times that he's pissed me off, but let the record show that I have never been bored.

"If I'm the unsub, why do I shoot my victims between two fifty five and three fifteen pm?"

I was in no mood to play the "I'm the unsub" game with Greenaway, or anyone for that matter, but I figured that it couldn't be worse than the silence.

"That's when I'd do it. There are fewer cops on the street during that time. The police tend to overlap shifts, so there's always someone minding the store. Second shift starts at three, first shift walks at three thirty."

Gideon's explanation is what really drew my attention in. I couldn't help but be fascinated. I don't think that the public knows just how lucky we all are that men like Gideon are out here catching the criminals instead of committing the crimes.

JJ finally looked up from her pad of paper in confusion, "Wouldn't there be twice as many cops on the street at that time?"

"In theory. The first half-hour of your shift you're in roll call, you're not on the street. And the last half-hour you're at the station, you're finishing reports, you're booking prisoners. So the twenty five minutes around the first/second shift, that's a bad guy's golden window."

It was like his words set off a lightbulb in my brain. Well, I guess that's how it all ties together.

"The only problem with all of that" I begin to speak up, "is that people outside of law enforcement wouldn't know any of that. And in case any of you were wondering, insinuating that there's a dirty cop does not exactly inspire warmth or kindness from a precinct."

And then like a dark cloud of depression, Landman came swooping through the door and dropped the bullet, enclosed within a plastic bag, down in front of Gideon. "Hope you find it useful." He said haughtily before turning around to leave the room.

Greenaway and JJ looked up at him in slight shock that he would do that to Gideon, while I just watched him distrustfully. I mean the man got what he wanted, to do the surgery, it didn't make sense to me that he would take up an issue with Gideon over it.

Before he could walk out the door Gideon spoke up, "Dr. Landman? How's Mr. Middleton?"

That smug look made its way to his face once again and I resisted the urge to smack it off. "The patient will make a full recovery, as I told you he would." Then he looked over at Greenaway and I's direction and threw us a wink before walking out of the room.

I turned over to Gideon, who had silently watched the exchange, "I would like to make it known that I will not be held responsible for whatever I do the next time I see him."

JJ shot me a small smile, "Duly noted."

* * *

 **Derek POV:**

There was something definitely wrong with this case. I don't mean that there's anything wrong with the logistics of the actual case, but there is something up with Reid and Ariadne. Usually if she's not with me her and Reid are can be found attached at the hip.

I suppose it made sense why they weren't around each other at this particular moment, considering the whole qualifications test, but I've never seen those two actually hold a grudge before.

Especially Ariadne.

She has always been a firm believer in making sure that arguments never go past a day, except of course when it comes to our father. It's always been a silent issue between the two of us, unable to agree about our opinions. The simple fact is that she didn't get to know him like I did, she didn't get to see the softer side of him. And in no way is that her fault, but it does make things more difficult when he comes up in conversation. So we've just decided to agree to disagree.

That's what made this whole situation feel like some sort of violation to unwritten rules. Typically by now Ariadne would have just attacked the kid in hugs until he gave in and forgave her, but it seemed that this time she was also keeping a firm barrier between the two of them.

Having Reid and Ariadne on opposite teams was just plain _wrong_ on so many fundamental levels.

Oddly enough it was only when I noticed that Ariadne had not voiced a single complaint about not coming with Reid and I that I realized things were worse than they seemed.

Ariadne always had this misplaced conviction that she had to be the one to protect the rest of us. I mean for god's sake I was the older brother in this scenario, it's my job to look out for her. So when she just let us go knowing that we wouldn't be under her watchful eye, I knew it was serious.

She didn't even make a face at having to go with Elle. This whole thing had to be fixed, and it had to get fixed now.

Hotch, Reid, and I had made our way back to the precinct when my ringtone pierced the surrounding air. I excused myself before turning around and hitting the call button, "Yeah, Morgan."

"Isn't this spooky?"

The smile that graced my lips couldn't be helped as the voice came in through the phone. I didn't know what game she was playing but I was gonna play along, "Isn't what spooky?"

"That right now you were thinking about me, and out of the blue, your phone rings? And it's me. Huh? How's that for a spiritual connection?"

The urge to laugh was strong, but I was bound and determined to win this. "Um…" I feigned confusion, "Do I know you?"

Immediately all sense of playfulness was gone from her voice, "Why do you hurt me?"

At that I let a low chuckle escape me, giving up the game. There were five women in my life that I held in high esteem. My mother, my three sisters, and one Penelope Garcia.

I don't even know how she did it either, but one day I just realized that Ariadne and I had formed a strange bond with that woman.

"Garcia please tell me you've nailed down a geographic profile on our guy." He really hoped that she had been able to find something, anything really, that would help lead them to this unsub.

"Yeah, I'll give you the good news first, which is not that good, but it's better than the bad."

I guess that's better than nothing.

However the more Garcia told me the more I was seeing that the gist of her message wasn't good in the slightest. In order for her to know more about the geological profile, she'd need another crime scene.

* * *

 **Ariadne POV:**

There had been another shooting.

Forty eight hours after the last one, and three more victims. Granted none of them had fatal wounds, but they had still been shot.

Derek had managed to get some information out of Penelope which had indicated that this unsub knew exactly what he was doing, that the gun he was using required specialized training. Which I mean really made everything all the more fun, cause you know now we'd actually have a more difficult time catching him.

My level of sarcasm seemed to be reaching new heights.

Since we had been closer to the scene our team arrived first, leaving Hotch's team to stay at the precinct. One of my first thoughts at seeing the new crime scene was that this guy was definitely getting bolder in his attacks. This place was what looked to be an outdoor restaurant or café, which was on what I considered to be a fairly busy street.

"The media attention and the FBI presence will only escalate his desire to shoot again."

I had to take a slight pause at Gideon's words. If that were the case then why on earth did we let the media come and make a huge spectacle about it? I thought that we were supposed to be discouraging the attacks, not egging them on.

"Meaning?" I'd been told that the woman currently speaking was Detective Calvin.

You have got to be kidding me. What did she mean? How was Gideon's sentence confusing in the slightest? "He's saying that with all the attention we have placed on this scene can only make the situation worse. None of this," I waved my hand in the direction of all the news casters, "is helping to keep the peace."

"Then we need to give the police a profile immediately. You ready?" JJ asked Gideon.

I turned and looked at the state troopers that were on standby and sighed to myself. The unsub had gone and crossed jurisdiction once again. This was not going to be pretty whatsoever.

We were about to tell them that we believe one of them to be responsible.

Oh yeah, this was going to be a bundle of fun.

* * *

We had regrouped with the whole team once we got to the station and tried to come up with a way to tell all the officers about the fact that they were all now suspects. As a group it was a pretty unanimous decision that Hotch do all of the talking while I don't say anything at all. The last thing we all wanted was another replay of my outburst where I accused a Captain of being racist.

A choice that I still stand by if I'm being completely honest.

As per usual we had JJ give off the introduction, seeing as how public speaking was really her major. "This initial profile is not ready to be given to the media. Releasing this profile prematurely can get people killed." And then like the badass that she is, she walked off to the side and let Hotch come up and continue.

This time there was no hesitation, just like ripping of a band aid. "We are looking for a thirty to forty year old male veteran, driving a car large enough to shoot from, but not so large it was noticed. Like the Beltway shooter, it's probably a sedan, customized to conceal the shooter, his weapon, and the sound of his shot. The unsub suffers from both narcissistic and paranoid personality disorders. He works out obsessively and is never without a weapon. He's completely self-centered and cannot empathize with others. Incapable of admitting fault, he blames his shortcomings on those around him. He has no friends, and his career history has been marked by frequent job changes. He's drawn to high-stakes jobs by a need to prove his superiority to a world he perceives has undervalued him. And these shootings are the ultimate expression of that need. We believe he changes jurisdictions intentionally and strikes during the first second shift change, indicating an intimate knowledge of law enforcement."

And there were the magic words.

Just like that the whole room shifted gears as the officers understood what Hotch was indicating.

"You're saying it's one of us?"

Hotch didn't mince his words or try to soften the blow, "We're saying he once was or is now a police officer."

Clearly this was not taken very well among them as one, whose name I found to be irrelevant, leaned back with a smirk on his face and decided that he was going to crack off a joke. "Is he driving a white van too?" A quiet laughter swept throughout the room.

A man who I thought was the Sergeant turned around to reprimand his officer, "Enough. That'll be all for now." Obviously he took the information in with the same serious nature that we had. "We can talk in my office" he told Hotch.

While Hotch had been speaking it was up to the rest of us to watch each individual officer to see if they reacted to anything in that profile. I think that now we were all focused on the same one.

The guy who had begun to mock the profile.

* * *

 **Derek POV:**

After Hotch had delivered the profile, Elle, and JJ had all followed him and the Sergeant into his office. I had taken a few steps in their direction when I noticed Ariadne standing off to the side all alone. I followed her gaze to see her watching Reid talking to Gideon.

Her posture was tense and at a first glance you would think that she was angry, however there was a small hint of sadness in her eyes. The sight sent a jolt through my heart, it always made me upset to see her unhappy.

But in this instance I couldn't just go up and punch the person responsible because this was her and Reid's fault, and they needed to be the ones to solve this.

But that didn't mean I couldn't nudge things along.

I walked over to her and slung my arm over her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts. The tension fled from her shoulders and she shot me a lazy smirk, as if that were going to distract me from what I had seen.

"So I've never known you to hold a grudge for this long. I mean congratulations, you've hit a new record."

Ariadne's smirk turned into the biggest bitch face that I've ever seen, just that deadpan stare that tells people she is in no way amused.

"I'm about to set an all-time high with the grudge I'll hold against you if you don't stop."

I feigned hurt and clutched at my chest as if she had wounded me, and I could see the faint hint of a smile tug at the corner of her lips. "In all seriousness I've never know you and Reid to just not talk to each other, especially for this long."

There was this guarded look that appeared in her eyes and I knew that if I had been anyone else that she would have slammed every barrier up and closed herself off. But I wasn't just anybody, I was her big brother and we always let our guards fall around each other.

Now I may not want others to see that I have a soft side, or at the very least know how deep it runs, but when it came to my family I didn't care what I looked like. Their happiness was my main priority, and everyone else could fuck right off as far as I was concerned.

I was brought back into the present when Ariadne's weight shifted so that she was mostly leaning on me. "It's surprisingly not all that complicated. He's ignoring me and didn't want to hear me out, and I don't think that I deserve that, thus leading to the silence on my side. If Spencer wants to talk then he's gonna have to come up to me first, not the other way around."

"Well you know I'm going to support you in whatever you decide to do, but I do think it's worth mentioning that this whole silence thing isn't going to make anything better."

"I know" she nodded her head a little and glanced up at me, "I'm just tired of always having to be the one to fix things."

There was a certain type of hesitation within her soft admission. Like she was afraid that I would judge her for wanting someone else to make an effort, that I would somehow think less of her.

Words weren't always my strong suit, so I did the only thing that I knew she would understand completely. I tilted my head to place a kiss on the top of her's and held her to me tightly.

Judging her is the last thing that I would ever do. There is nothing that she could do that I would not forgive.

* * *

 **Ariadne POV:**

Talking with Derek had been helpful. Admitting that the only reason Spencer and I weren't on speaking terms was because I was being selfish, wasn't something that I had wanted to say but Derek had a way of making it easy to open up.

The kiss he placed on the top of my head felt like absolution.

We had just stood there, wrapped up in the comfortable silence between us, when Hotch came and informed us that we would be doing a reenactment of the park shooting the next day.

So here I was, watching Greenaway, Spencer, and Derek take the places of the victims while I opted out and chose to remain on the sidelines with Hotch and Gideon. There was something about standing in the exact spot where someone had been shot that just didn't appeal to me.

I had gotten tired of standing and took a seat on the ground that was covered by the shade cast off from our vehicle. It was a pretty sunny day, but there was a nice breeze to help counter the heat.

Gideon, JJ, Detective Calvin, and the Sergeant had all taken refuge in the mobile command center, where they had set up cameras and walkie-talkies. Really the thing was built like a large bus.

"Elle, Jerry Middleton was facing a little further south. Can you give us that?" Hotch spoke into the walkie-talkie. There was no way that Hotch would be found sitting on the ground, so he chose to stand in the heat of the sun in his suit.

The others continued to go back and forth about where the correct placement was and whether or not the unsub could see them from the initial position. I chose to rest, knowing that once we left here things could pick up at a fast pace and then I wouldn't be able to get some sleep in for a while.

It was a light doze, the kind where I wasn't paying attention to what others were doing, but at the smallest hint of trouble could pop right back up and be wide awake.

I didn't get much time to myself when everyone from the command center came rushing out in a hurry, talking about someone leaking the profile. Hotch looked over at me and nodded his head in their direction, telling me to follow after them while he stayed behind.

I mentally groaned and stood up before jogging over to the rest of the group, who were making their way to a news caster.

"Mr. Jenkins, I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau with the FBI." I may not have known what the hell this was all about, but JJ looked pissed. "We need you to identify your source."

Jenkins looked affronted, "No way. I know my rights."

Once again, I may not have known what this guy had done or even what source they were talking about, but JJ needed him to give her an answer and he had refused. And that meant that it was my turn to step in.

Gideon however had moved faster than me and was pulling his arms behind his back, the typical position that would lead to cuffing. "Hey, hey! Vic, shoot this. Get this all on tape." Jenkins cried out indignantly as Gideon fastened the handcuffs around his wrist.

I walked over and put my hand over the camera lens, covering the image that they intended to capture. Yeah they weren't going to be getting any of this on record. The man holding the camera, Vic, looked like he wanted to move my hand but with one well-placed glare in his direction, he quickly assumed that I would in fact break whatever limb it was that he tried to touch me with.

"You should know the FBI considers these shootings an act of terrorism. Under the patriot act we can detain you as long as we need to."

I feel like I don't say it enough, but JJ is a badass.

At the threat of being held in custody for an indefinite period of time, Jenkins spilled, "All I know is his cell number."

Gideon looked over at me and told me to go tell Hotch that he needed to contact Penelope and get the name of who owned the number. So like the good little solider I was, I ran back and let Hotch know about what had just transpired.

I was on edge right now, because someone from the precinct leaked the information, and most of the cops were out here right now where my team had split up in various different directions. I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited.

"Scott McCarty" Hotch said, looking at Detective Calvin who had joined us while we waited.

She pulled the sunglasses off of her face and bit her lip in frustration. Both were things that did not make me feel comfortable, those were actions of anxiety. "McCarty's the unsub" she said looking at the two of us.

Okay, not very helpful there Detective, we guessed that when Penelope told us. Hotch was on the same line of thinking cause he continued to looking at her the same way I was, "Yeah, but where is he?"

"McCarty is _playing_ the unsub."

My head whipped around to see the point end of the rifle sticking out of the trunk. A rifle that was aimed in the direction of Greenaway, Spencer, and my brother. The same rifle that the unsub was currently holding.

Hotch grabbed onto my arm, halting my movement towards the car. I understood that we needed to wait and let SWAT come in and make it a clean grab, but the thought of McCarty pointing that rifle at my people for even another second had the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention.

I would never say it out loud, but I knew that if this all went wrong and something happened to Derek or Spencer, that I wouldn't be able to forgive Hotch for holding me back in the first place.

I was told to wait right by Hotch's side while SWAT came in and got set up, I guess no one trusted me not to take matters into my own hand. Which was smart of them, because I don't handle waiting very well.

I watched as SWAT came around the side of the car and threw a smoke bomb underneath the trunk, blocking McCarty's field of vision and sending him into a coughing fit.

As soon as the gas went off Greenaway took off and hid behind a tree while Derek had to physically tackle Spencer to the ground so that he was out of harm's way.

Seeing them all take cover had eased the burden on my heart and I felt like I could breathe again. However now that I wasn't panicking, I moved onto anger as I watched SWAT yank McCarty out of the trunk and throw him on the ground where they handcuffed him.

They got him up and were escorting him away passing by Hotch and I when the sound of a gun went off.

A bullet pierced the air and lodged itself in McCarty's head, splattering his blood in our direction. Straightaway I dropped to the ground, my heart racing as I prayed that there would only be the one shot.

* * *

 **Derek's POV:**

Reid and I were watching from our place behind the tree as the SWAT team began to lead McCarty away. I was just glad that it all happened cleanly, and that no one had gotten hurt this time around.

That's what I was thinking until the sound of a gun went off. I watched as McCarty went down, but that hadn't been my main focus.

Because Ariadne had hit the ground the same time McCarty did.

My heart stopped and I could feel a yell get caught in my throat. I felt dizzy as I watched my baby sister's body drop. What if it was Ariadne that got shot? What if because she was so close to McCarty, she got hit instead of him?

I was frozen in fear, my mind going a million different miles as I kept my gaze pinned on her body. When she still didn't move a second later, the yell that had gotten stuck fought through to the surface. "Ariadne!" My voice cracked and I battled the urge to tear up as I waited with baited breath to see if she would respond.

If she didn't than unsub or not I was going to go make sure that she was alive myself. And if she wasn't then I hoped to god that one of those bullets would hit me too.

Her head popped up from the ground and she pierced me with her gaze, the same fear that I felt reflecting back in her eyes.

The sight of her caused my legs to give out on me, and I slouched into the tree that I had been using for cover. I could finally breathe again now that I knew she was okay.

"Oh thank god."

I turned my head to look at Reid, having heard his soft mutter. The kid had turned a deathly white and his eyes shone wet with unshed tears.

Honestly I'm sure that I didn't look much better either.

His eyes were locked onto Ariadne's form and I could easily pick up on the fear that lined his entire body. Clearly he had seen her go down and thought the same thing that I did.

Normally I would tease the poor kid about having to toughen up out here in the field, but I was too anxious to actual hold Ariadne and check her over for injuries with my own eyes to crack a joke.

From the looks of him Reid was ready for this silent treatment to be over.

* * *

 **Ariadne POV:**

We had to wait until SWAT gave the okay to be able to get up and move. As soon as we had it Derek came barreling into me and ran his hands over my head and arms, making sure that I was unharmed. I did the same to him before taking a glance in Spencer's direction, wanting to make sure that he was safe even if we weren't talking at the moment. I noticed his eyes locked onto mine and for the first time today he hadn't broke the contact.

I turned away when Derek pulled me into his arms, muttering about how I was going to give him a heart attack one of these days. No words needed to be exchanged between us, we both just needed a few minutes to reassure ourselves that the other was okay and standing in front of us in one piece.

Hotch was kind enough to allow us that time before he reluctantly called Derek over to him. Before I could go and see if JJ and Gideon were alright, a soft voice stopped me.

"Ari…"

I turned to look at Spencer, wondering what he was gonna do. Without another word he walked up and pulled me into a hug. I slowly wrapped my arms around him, hoping that this meant that we weren't fighting anymore.

"I'm still mad at you, but don't ever scare me like that again."

And just like that the moment was ruined.

I took a big inhale and sighed, but I never let go of him. "Look Spencer I told you why I wasn't a good fit to teach you, can't you just let it go already?"

He scoffed a little, but he never released me from his grip either. "I'd let it go if I didn't know that you weren't telling me the whole truth." I tensed at his accusation. "I mean maybe it has nothing to do with teaching styles, maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're embarrassed by me and knew I wouldn't be able to pass no matter how hard you tried to teach me." He didn't say these words in anger, just in a sad accepting tone.

I grasped onto the back of his shirt tighter. Regardless of the recent shooting scare I was heated, "Don't you dare believe I would ever think that. There is nothing you could ever do that would make me embarrassed of you, least of all when it comes to shooting a gun." I loosened my grip on him slightly so that I was just holding a part of his shirt and not white knuckling it. I try to control the tremors in my hands as I struggled to find the correct words.

"The reason I said no was because I didn't want you to learn how to use a gun, at least not from me." I leaned back slightly so that I could maintain eye contact with him, and watched as his features softened somewhat into confusion rather than sadness. "When I pick up a gun I use it with a single goal in mind. For me a gun means death, and it means that while I use it that's what I bring."

I paused and waited for him to meet my eyes and I could feel my emotions try to weasel their way out before I shoved them back into the small box in the back of my mind. "You are not a killer, you're probably the only innocent one on this team, besides Penelope. And if I were to put a gun in your hands and teach you how to use it then I feel like I would be teaching you to be like me. That I would be responsible for whatever you had to do with that gun, as well as whatever that gun would do to your conscious."

Spencer signed before bringing he lifted an eyebrow, "Ari that's my decision to make though. If the gun is not in your hands than you are not responsible for what happens with it. And trust me, we both work to find killers and I can tell you right now that you're nothing like them. Doing what you have to do while serving your country is not the same as going around and killing people. It's sure as hell not the same as what just happened."

 _Oh if only you knew the things I have done all in the name of my serving my country. They would make you look at me in horror._

The wave of self-hatred that accompanied that thought caused me to let go of him and take a step back. I felt like he could be stained by the deep red of my sins if he held on any longer. "I'm glad you don't see me like that Spencer, but it doesn't change how I feel about it." At the stern look in his eyes I amended my response, "But I will take what you said under advisement and try to see things from other's point of view."

"That's all I ask of you."

"So are we all good now?" All the signs were pointing that we were in the all clear, but I still wanted the verbal confirmation just to be absolutely sure.

He let loose one of his crooked smiles that never failed to make me weak in the knees. "Yeah Ari, we're all good."

And with those words everything felt right again.

* * *

Going back to the precinct had been difficult. Not only were the officers mourning the loss of one of their own, but now they were out for revenge. Because this unsub just became a cop killer.

Our entire team and Detective Calvin filed into the conference room to talk about what had all gone down earlier. After the two massive heart attacks that Derek and Spencer had given me, I wanted to go back to the hotel and just sleep for a day straight.

"How did McCarty end up playing the unsub?"

I wondered what JJ's question had to do with the situation at hand. Clearly he wasn't the unsub, the bullet in his head could attest to that, so I didn't understand why we needed anymore time spent on him.

"Sergeant Weigart punished McCarty for mouthing off during the profile briefing by making him the unsub and sticking him in the trunk of the car all afternoon" Detective Calvin clarified for us.

So note to self, if you make fun of a profile then you're punishment will result in taking a bullet to the skull. Good to know. But on the other hand I bet the Sergeant's got a big plate of regret coming up in the near future, cause that's the kind of thing that will weigh heavy on your soul.

"Wait." JJ looked more confused than before, "Then how did the unsub find out about the reenactment?"

Well that answer wasn't very hard to find. And Derek knew it to, "Come on, cops talk. Pissed off cops talk loud, at home, at the bars, at gyms, and to anyone who'll listen."

People these days just didn't understand the simple benefits of tact. They're always mouthing off, not thinking about how what they say can affect them.

"Our unsub went from wounding civilians to executing a police officer, so he's escalated. He's not staying on script."

That was great and all, but we still had one major problem. "There's only one way things end with cop killers Gideon, and it ain't pretty. And we're kidding ourselves if we think for one minute that every cop in this building wouldn't go on a witch hunt right now. So we need to find this guy before their patience with us runs dry."

We had to get on the right track fast if we wanted to avoid a huge unnecessary problem. So Spencer and Derek started shooting off things that this unsub had not done.

"He did not pick McCarty at random."

"He didn't take the gut shot."

"The answer to that is very simple." My words drew all the attention in the room to me, "We thought the unsub was McCarty and that would have gotten out to the public, no matter how tight a lid we would have tried to keep on it. His message was clear, he will not have anyone taking the credit for what he did. Like you said during the profile Hotch, he feels underappreciated, and now he's frustrated on top of that. So we've got a rage filled homicidal sociopath with a rifle and military experience on the loose, not exactly a good look for us."

Sure, we've been stacked with worse odds, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.

* * *

When Penelope had called to let us know that she had gotten a geographic profile for this guy, Derek and I had promised to take her out for lunch when we got back.

When the shooting turned out to be centered around the two hospitals, there was a small part of me that hoped Landman was the unsub. Cause if that was the case then things would make so much sense. The dude was skeevy, him being a killer would not be surprising.

The ride over to the hospital had been filled with Gideon and Spencer explaining what hero homicide was to Detective Calvin. It had been decided that we were going to try to keep this whole thing under wraps and not make it a big deal, so while we waited for confirmation about Landman we were all sitting idly in the same conference room as yesterday.

My phone started buzzing from inside my pocket and I opened it to find a message from Noah.

 _Hey, so my play is set for next week. You're still coming right?_

The corners of my lips lifted with every word I read. This kid was way too cute for his own good. I couldn't wipe the grin from my face as I typed out my reply.

 _C'mon kit, you know there's nothing in this world that could stop me from being there. You're going to give yourself a hernia if you keep worrying. Like I told your mother, I'll be coming in the day before you take the stage._

"Well that smile can only mean one thing." I had almost forgotten that Derek wasn't the kind of person to let someone do anything in peace. He always had to know what was going on. "Tell the kid I say hi."

I relayed Derek's message and put my phone back into my pocket, momentarily satisfied. I'd been meaning to call Noah but since my schedule was so inconsistent it was hard to find the time most days.

I didn't have too many things I held dear in the world, but Noah Santis was one of them. Maria's adopted brother was family to me, and I always made sure that him and his folks were doing okay.

One of Maria's last requests had been that I take care of Noah in her place. The kid had just started high school and I was making sure that I was involved as much as I could be, and that meant going to plays and soccer games. Derek had even made it to a few, which had of course made Noah absolutely ecstatic.

The fax machine spitting out a piece of paper helped ground me back to the here and now. Derek already had a hand waiting to grab the piece of paper, letting me know that this was something he had been expecting. "Ok, courtesy of Garcia. Landman was army, started out in M.P. school. So there's where the law enforcement comes in. But he was smart. Got a degree on Uncle Sam, and ended up a doctor with Special Forces and bounced around from hospital to hospital since his discharge in two thousand one."

I can only assume that the bouncing around was due to his award winning personality.

Gideon looked over at the woman who had introduced Landman to us the other day, "Has Dr. Landman been under any unusual strain? Has he had a reprimand? Uh… has he had any kind of major blow to his ego?"

There was a dawning look of apprehension on her face as she looked up at Gideon. "Last month, he was passed over for chief of surgery."

The facts kept stacking up against Landman. He had the personality to fit a hero homicide, he had the military experience, and he had a trigger.

Gideon sent Derek to go get a warrant to see if they could find the weapon in his house, while Hotch had gone ahead and checked his car to see if it fit the one from the profile. The woman had gone on to tell us that Landman was currently in one of the observation rooms going over brain scans for another patient.

Gideon had been adamant that he speak to Landman alone, much to my displeasure. Which is why I was now standing outside the room looking into it with Greenaway, Spencer, and JJ besides me. None of us could hear what was being said in the room, but we could guess by the smirk on Landman's face that it was not going all that well.

I was told, very directly, that I was not to interfere with the conversation unless things took a turn in a violent manner. The thought of it even getting to that point was making my anxiety skyrocket, and not being able to hear what was being said was only making it worse.

My hands had been tapping on my leg for the past couple of minutes in an effort to help keep me grounded, when Hotch made his way to us.

"You get anything from his car?" Greenaway asked him without removing her eyes from the confrontation going on in the observation room.

"It's a red two seat Maserati, so if he's the shooter he must have another vehicle."

JJ crossed her arms and scoffed, because _of course_ that would be the car that Landman drives.

After a few more seconds of trying to lip read through the window, Landman's voice came out loud and clear as he made eye contact with the rest of us. "I was in my office with Dr. Hannah Pate. I'm not the only one who thinks I'm a god. She's in the E.R. right now. Go on, ask her!"

If this guy had a legitimate alibi then I was going to be honestly disappointed. I know that we're not supposed to "root" for someone to be the unsub, but I couldn't help it. Landman just held a certain quality that one would expect to see in a serial killer.

Also the thought of any woman wanting Landman made me a little sick inside. It must have been that this Hannah Pate had the lowest standards on the face of this earth, as well as potentially being blind. Because I refuse to believe that anyone with a working sense of sight would voluntarily let a man like that lay a hand on them.

"Reid, let's take a walk down to the E.R." Hotch said, about to turn back in the direction that he came from. However while he was turning he noticed my hands, which had not stopped their incessant tapping, and motioned towards me as well. "It's going to do you no good to sit and wait, so Morgan you're with us."

I didn't question it, knowing that the longer I waited the more anxious I was bound to become. I took one last look at Gideon before I turned and trailed after Hotch and Spencer. While we walked I sent a quick text over to Derek, letting him know that when he came back he should go check up on Gideon so that I could have some peace of mind that he would be okay.

I honestly feel a great deal of pity for Landman if he had to go against Derek. My brother was like a whole other breed when it came down to facing the bad guys, never even flinching when having to stand toe to toe with them.

For all my bravado, I was actually terrified all the time. Petrified that one day this job would steal the only people I had left in this world. I'm not a good person, not in the slightest. I would let the world burn if it meant that I could save those I love. And I wouldn't even have to think twice about it.

Entering the E.R. it was clear to see that they were majorly busy, so we walked up to what looked to be a male nurse going over some files.

"Excuse me" Hotch tried to get the nurses' attention as he flashed his badge, "I'd like to speak with Dr. Pate."

The man's eyes were glued to Hotch's badge and it seemed like he had to rip them away in order to look him in the eyes. I didn't blame him, it could be intimidating to have to speak with the FBI. "Yes sir, I'll go find her for you." I smiled at him as he left, thankful for his swift cooperation.

Hotch turned to Spencer and I, lowering his voice so that those around us couldn't hear what was being said and freak out. "The motivations for hero homicide are excitement, power, and respect, and even though Landman's not a star, he still gets respect. Racing against the clock to save someone's life is exciting."

Having this conversation was disconcerting, given the fact that we were currently in the hospital when there were doubts about Landman being the unsub.

"Maybe it's not exciting enough. That's- that's why he shoots three people at a time" Spencer points out.

Hotch didn't seem convinced, "But he can only operate on one at a time, it wouldn't be any more exciting."

Both of them paused and started looking around the E.R. room. I look a quick glance behind me and saw a man sitting down holding a towel to a blood soaked hand, while a doctor and nurse catered to him. I moved on and my eyes categorized every injury in the room, with each one the desire to leave got stronger.

I'd seen my fair share of injuries in the military and was not in a hurry to see anymore. The sight of blood carried a new meaning for me these days, and it wasn't one I liked to think about.

"At least, not for Landman and not in the O.R." I didn't like the sound of Hotch's voice because it sounded like he had just discovered something that I wouldn't like. Lord knows I spent enough time around them all to know exactly what each tone meant.

"The policemen and E.R. personnel are on the exact same twenty-four hour shift schedule."

No, tell me that we didn't screw up this badly.

Hotch looked like he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, "The unsub wasn't shooting at shift change because there are fewer cops on the street. He works the second shift in the emergency room."

Instantly my eyes are racing across every face in the room, because right now we are standing amongst the second shift employees. Hotch pulled out his phone, most likely going to call Gideon, when one of the female nurses catches sight of him.

"Sir, you can't use the cell phone in the hospital."

My face contorted in my confusion. Why the hell not? What exactly was a cell phone going to do, start a fire? Was it going to pick up a rifle and shoot someone in the stomach?

Hotch, ever the faithful rule follower, closed the phone and put it back into his suit pocket, before walking over to where she was and subtly flashed his badge. "We're FBI agents, and we believe that one of your staff members might be the sniper."

The nurse did a double take at him, which I believed was completely warranted given the current circumstances. Hotch didn't give her a second because we didn't have the time, "Now the man we're looking for works second shift, and he would have transferred from Arlington in the past two weeks."

The nurse shook her head in blatant relief, "We haven't had any new personnel in two months."

"Are you sure?" Hotch's eyebrows were furrowed.

"Yeah" the nurse was adamant that there was no one here who was a recent transfer. "Look I've got patients who need me" she went to turn away, but Hotch gently reached out to grab her arm.

"He's in his thirties. He's vain, rude, and arrogant. He works out, shows up to work late. He blames others for his mistakes, doesn't take responsibility for his behavior. All of his coworkers detest him."

The more that Hotch described him the paler the nurse got. "Oh my god." Came her soft whisper, "It's Phillip Dowd. He's- he picks up shifts at Arlington."

"Is he here today?" Hotch asked the million dollar question.

The nurse repeated her "Oh my god" and began to spin around in search of him.

That was not good, and once again Hotch reached out for her." Okay, your patients need you calm. Now tell me, is Dowd working today?" She shook her head yes and Hotch moved onto his next question, "Do you see him?" This time when she spun it was much less obvious, but still she shook her head no. Hotch placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder, "Go tell Gideon."

Spencer had turned and made to jog when I called out to him, "Hey Spence, just take it easy. One foot at a time." He nodded and slowed down before disappearing around the corner.

The next thing I knew Dowd was coming out from around the corner with a rifle pointed at the back of the security guard's head. He quickly shot out the lights, engaging the emergency protocol ones, before Hotch or I could draw our weapons.

Now that I think about it, that male nurse had been taking his sweet ole' time finding Dr. Pate, I guess he'd been searching for a rifle instead.

The whole room went dark except for the dim yellow, and the alarms started blaring. I didn't think twice before my gun was out and pointed at Dowd, Hotch doing the exact same thing beside me.

"Nobody moves, and nobody dies" Dowd said, addressing the entire room. He made eye contact with Hotch and I, "Better be a head shot. I got this on full auto. Anything less, I go down squeezing the trigger."

Unlike Hotch, who had begun to lower his gun, I was fully prepared to take the shot. Spencer had been behind the same corner that Dowd had come from, and I hadn't seen him come back out from behind it. Not to mention that Hotch was standing right beside me.

If it kept these two safe than I would put a bullet in Dowd's head in a heartbeat.

I held my gun steady and watched Dowd with a steel glint in my eyes. He watched Hotch place his weapon down before turning his attention to me.

While I stared at him in hatred, he stared at me in fascination. "Would you really risk it sweetheart?"

My finger tightened on the trigger at the sound of Derek's nickname coming out of his mouth. This man did not have the right to call me that. "I don't miss."

His eyes roamed down to my stance and his eyes lit up in understanding, "Well there's an army attitude if I've ever seen one, so I don't doubt that." Suddenly his gaze grew dark and hard, as he pushed the rifle closer to the security guard, "But don't test me."

Hotch's hand came down to rest on my gun before he began to push it down slowly. Clearly he didn't want to take the risk. Dowd smirked before kicking the guard down onto his knees and walked over to pick up Hotch and I's guns from where they rested on the counter in front of us.

He pocketed them before walking back and looking to his side, "Get up! Get over here. Double time, let's go!"

My heart stopped as Spencer came running over to us with his hands held above his head. The moment he was within arms distance I reached out and pulled him closer so that he was directly between Hotch and I, which in my opinion was the safest place at the moment. I wanted to look over at him and make sure he was okay but I didn't remove my gaze from Dowd, lest he try something while my back was turned.

"You" Dowd motioned at Hotch, "take your partner's gun, put it on the counter."

Hotch's voice came out completely calm, "He's not armed. See for yourself."

Goddammit Hotch. The whole point of putting Spencer between the two of us was so that Dowd didn't reach him.

There was a moment of silence before Dowd spoke again, "Hands on your heads." The three of us did as we were told and Dowd made his way over and reached out with one hand to rip Spencer's bag from his shoulder and toss it to the side. He patted Spencer down, not finding the hidden gun I'm sure he thought Spencer was hiding. I was silently fuming over the fact that Dowd had put his hands on Spencer.

He pulled back and reached into his pockets before addressing the guard, "Get up Keith. Put those on 'em, then put them on yourself."

As Keith walked over and begun zip tying our wrists together, he shot us all an apologetic look. I wanted to reassure the man that we understood and didn't blame him, but there was no way I was going to start talking.

"Now step back. Back up, back up." Dowd kept repeating it until Keith was back at his side. Dowd then knocked the back end of the gun into his face, causing him to fall to the floor unconscious. The people, who had huddled together in the back of the room, all exclaimed at the sight.

Dowd pointed the gun at Spencer and I, "Get down on the ground." Once we had done so he moved onto Hotch, "Have a seat."

Still talking to Hotch, Dowd went on to make conversation. "Now what kind of FBI agent doesn't carry a gun?"

The kind who doesn't need to because I'm right behind him.

"I'm a profiler." There were tears in Spencer's eyes, but I suspected that they might have been from the hit to the side of the face that he took from Dowd. The bruise would be evident in a few hours' time.

"Profiler?" Dowd lifted an eyebrow in what seemed to be amusement, "They sent you to figure me out."

You could tell that Dowd was under the impression that such a thing was impossible. How I would enjoy bursting that self-absorbed bubble.

He had hurt something of mine, so I would hurt something of his.

"We did. That's how we found you."

"Shut up Reid."

Shocked, I swung my gaze up to Hotch. What the hell had he just said? Spencer's head dropped and rage began to settle in the pit of my stomach.

"No, don't shut up. Tell me what you think you know about me." Dowd was completely focused on Spencer and I hated it with every fiber of my being.

But instead of answering Spencer looked lost, not knowing if he should speak since Hotch, had oh so rudely told him to be quiet.

"Go ahead, genius. Tell him. But remember, get it wrong, and he's gonna kill you."

I bared my teeth and snarled at the threat, enraged that Hotch had even put the thought in Spencer's head.

The tears in Spencer's eyes shone even more brightly as he looked up at Dowd before dropping his gaze back to the floor. I shifted so that my shoulder was pressed against his, hoping that he would take some comfort from my presence. It was also a very clear move on my part. It stated that he was under my protection.

This time there was no mistaking the amusement in Dowd when he turned his head back to Hotch, "Ok. So clearly you're the boss. You tell me. Who am I? What's my plan?"

"I know you shot eleven people in broad daylight and left us nothing, you executed a cop in front of the FBI and got away clean, and I know that your plan is to go down in a hail of bullets." Well way to go Hotch, you would have done brilliant work if our job was inflating his ego.

"What else do you know?" For some reason Dowd was intrigued.

I was hoping that Derek and Gideon were working on a way to get us out sooner rather than later.

* * *

 **Derek POV:**

Coming back to the hospital and finding out that Ariadne was locked in a room with the unsub was not exactly what I would call an ideal situation. But I had taken it in stride and kept a level head about the whole thing.

It had only taken three members of SWAT to hold me back from storming into the room. And it took about another five minutes before Gideon was able to talk me off of the ledge and remind me that I still had a job to do.

All it took was one phone call to Penelope explaing that Ari was stuck in a room with this guy for her to send me his entire life story. Our usual banter was missing and she been uncaracteristically serious. There was something she said that did shock me a little though, only because I've never heard her speak about violence in a postitive manner before.

" _You get our girl out of there. And if he hurts a single hair on her head, you take that son of a bitch out."_

Regardless, it was a promise I intended to keep.

See Ari, now she gets pretty scary if you mess with the people she loves. But me? Do that and you won't even have time to feel fear before I get my hands on you.

This guy didn't know whose family he had just endangered, but he was about to find out.

"He joined the army at eighteen, went to Ranger school, did six years before being dishonorably discharged in ninty five for conduct unbecoming. He obviously lied about it and joined the Arlington P.D., so like the profile said he's was a cop." I was reading off an edited version of what Garcia had sent me.

"For nine months until they found out he lied about the discharge, so they kicked him out. Soon thereafter Dowd got his nursing license. He's been bouncing from hospital to hospital ever since." Elle was reading the folder from over my shoulder.

All we could do at the moment was wait, and it was killing me. No offense to my team, but they didn't understand what I stood to lose here.

My baby sister was in that room. Not a single person here understood just what that meant, and I couldn't help but be frustrated with them. I felt like we were just twiddiling our thumbs, not doing a thing.

Gideon looked over, taking in the uneasy tension that was written all over my face. He sent me a significant look, "Have faith that Hotch'll take care of them."

I held his gaze steady, not in the mood for a pep talk. "The only person I trust to take care of Ariadne is me."

* * *

 **Ariadne POV:**

I didn't know what game Hocth was playing, but I swear to all that is holy if he doesn't stop stroking Dowd's sense of self-importance I was going to vomit.

"I know you're the smartest guy in every room you've ever been in, and no one's ever known it."

Hah!

Not in this room he ain't. The smartest guy in this room is sitting right next to me, hunched over on the floor because his self-worth was being called into question.

"People feel threatened by you and try to sabotage you every chance they get. You're not a bad person, you help save all of your victims afterwards." While he spoke Dowd moved so that he was lossely aiming the gun at us. Hotch was getting his attention to sway, I just wish there was another way to do so. "First guy wasn't your fault. If the EMT's had been there on time, he would've lived." There was something so cold in Hotch's gaze, a form of detatchment I didn't know he was capable of displaying.

"Took those guys thirteen minutes. Thirteen!" Dowd was falling for Hotch's act. The only problem was that Spencer was as well.

"You want to barricade the door."

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from yelling at Hotch that there was another way to do this, one that didn't include making it harder for the rest of the team to reach us.

"What?" Dowd quickly shot the door a glance. That seemed to be the question of the day.

"Let me and the kids over here do it. Let 'em see that you've got three FBI agents in here doing your bidding." Okay, I could actually work with that. If I could just make eye contact with Derek I could figure something out.

"Right" Dowd said unconvincingly, "Let you give them a signal."

The small inkiling of hope was dashed, but Hotch fought to keep it alive. "What signal? They knew you were in here, they knew you were armed. What can I tell them?"

There was a moment that passed before Dowd brought the gun back up and took aim. People gasped and I fought the urge to sigh, it was just so cliché. I mean why the gasp then, it's not like there was any point in time where Dowd had not been aiming at one of us. "What is this, some sort of profiler trick? New negotiation tactic?"

That first question made us sound like some sort of new breed of wizards.

Dowd and Hotch entered a staring contest, which had apparently resulted in some form of agreement because Dowd nodded his head in contemplation. "No, the barricade's a good idea though." The rifle was once again lowered from his face, "Now why would you wanna help me?"

In no way, shape, or form was this us helping you, you sociopath. But Hotch is clearly willing to say whatever needs to be said to get all of us out of here, "I don't."

"You said they knew I was in here" Dowd looked like he was trying to piece things together.

Hotch put on a show of acting as though he had just been caught in a lie. He opened and closed his mouth and avoided eye contact, hell he even through in a tiny stutter at the start of his sentence. "I said they know you're in here." Screw the FBI, Hotch clearly had lied about where he went to college. I bet it was Juilliard.

That self-righteous attitude came flaring back into existance as Dowd tilted his head, almost in a scolding manner. "No. That's not what you said."

Spencer's fingers had been twitching for the majority of the conversation and I knew that he was dying to say something. I was just hoping that if he sat in silence for long enough that Dowd would forget his importance. But alas, nothing ever goes my way cause I have shit luck.

"Why does it even matter?" Spencer spoke with his head down and only lifted it when Dowd responded.

"It matters because your partner wants to help me even though he doesn't know it. Go ahead, Boss Man."

My bound wrists shot out and smacked against the floor loudly. "You _do not_ get to call him that." I uttered through my clenched teeth, making the words come out harsh and deep.

"So she does speak, for a second I'd thought you'd gone mute over there sweetheart." The words were spoken without feeling, leaving a sense of hollowness in its wake. His response confused me. Everything in the profile suggested that he wouldn't hesitate to hurt someone who insulted him. By all rights he should have shot me during my outburst. The divergence from the profile left me uneasy.

Dowd's main focus of the evening was clearly Hotch, because he just wouldn't leave him alone. "Go on and tell him why. If you lie or leave anything out, pop." A popping sound came from his lips as he indicated that he would indeed use the rifle on him.

At this point I didn't know what the tears in Spencer's eyes were from, but I did know that I would have given anything to make them go away. The fact that no emotion bled into Hotch's eyes let me know that what came next was not going to be easy to hear.

"They knew he was in here, they knew he was armed and dangerous, and they knew that he was gonna fight till the last round. And they sent the two of us in here with an unarmed kid who can't shoot his way out of a wet paper bag."

Ice knotted itself into the base of my spine. The blood pumping through my veins was the only sound I heard as I watched Spencer's face drop. I saw every wall I had managed to knock down over the time I knew him, shoot back up as Hotch's words ripped through his soul.

Dowd and Hotch were still talking but it all faded into the background for me, probably because I didn't want to hear it. I extended my ankle to wrap around Spencer's, wishing not for the first time that I could wrap him up in a hug and tell him that none of this was true.

"Do you know why they took away boy genius' gun?"

Fuck no Hotch. I barely missed the shame that covered Spencer's face before I tried to get Hotch's attention, trying to tell him that this was going too far.

But he didn't see me.

"He failed his qualification. Twice a year, Morgan's gotta listen to him whine about requalifying. She asks me to tutor him, so I do, and he fails again." Hotch spared a glance in our direction and was momentarily taken aback by the blatant murder that was written in my eyes, a silent promise for retribution hidden behind my irises.

Spencer had _never_ been a burden to me.

I was done, this had gone on for far too long. The threat of being shot sounded more appealing than sitting here and watching Spencer try to hold himself together against the words of a man he looked up to.

A loose idea of a plan formulated in my head and I slowly untangled my legs and fingers from Spencer, drawing his attention to the movement. Confusion swirled within the depths of his wet hazel eyes, and it furthered my resolve to get this over with.

"Hey Dowd, how about we stow the touchy feely shit for a moment and get real here." I glared up at him, trying to convey my utter disgust at him.

Maybe Hotch could work with the emotionless agent who's got a vendetta aspect but I was filled with rage, and that was something I was never quite good at hiding.

"You tell your story as if it's supposed to justify the fact that you've killed people. So what someone's annoyed you? Woopdee freakin' do. It happens, deal with it like a man, don't hide behind a gun." With every word I spoke Dowd's teeth ground down harder. But this time it was me who wasn't done.

"You wanna know how I know that I'm better than you?" I knew this was a stupid idea, most likely the stupidest one I've ever had, but I'd be damned if I just sat there and let Spencer take any more of the verbal abuse that Hotch was bestowing upon him. True or not that shit was hurtful.

I made direct eye contact with Dowd before uttering the words I knew would send him into a blind rage, making him forget about whatever it was that kept him from shooting me before. "I'm the one who got an honorable discharge, because I knew how to do my damn job and wasn't a failure or a disgrace to the military like _you_."

Time seemed to slow in that moment. I watched as Dowd's arm tensed and began to lift the gun in my direction. I didn't couldn't even spare a moment to be concerned because I was too busy being relieved that his focus had shifted from Hotch and Spencer.

I sprung up from my position on the floor and aimed for the knees as I barreled into Dowd, throwing off his balance and knocking the both of us back to the ground. I could hear a commotion going on behind me but I didn't dare turn around until I had gotten the rifle away from Dowd.

The awkward angle that I had started from at my previous position was not working in my favor and before I could grab the fallen rifle, Dowd had gotten up just in time to send a jarring kick to my abdomen that knocked all the breath out of my lungs.

I looked up to see the back end of the gun swinging down towards my face. Pain shot through me and there was yelling coming from somewhere I couldn't quite identify.

The last thing I heard before I gave in to the darkness that beckoned me, was a gunshot.

* * *

I had woken up in the back of an ambulance with a medic standing over me on one side and Derek to the next. There was a hand stroking the top of my head and I assumed it was Derek, otherwise this was going to be a very interesting conversation.

"There she is." Derek was smiling down at me softly, and I tried to send one back but a piercing pain shot through my head making me wince. Suddenly I remembered why I was in pain and I tried to sit up in order to look for Hotch and Spencer.

Derek's hand immediately moved to my back in order to help me sit up, "Just take it easy there sweetheart, everyone's fine so don't worry yourself over that." I relaxed slightly, relieved to know they were okay but still wanting to see them. The medic could see that I was in good hands so he let us go after informing me to put some ice on the laceration on my hairline before I went to bed.

At my request Derek led me over to the other ambulance that Spencer was leaning against while speaking to Hotch. Seeing me make my way over to him caused Spencer to get up and meet us halfway. There had been hugging involved and I asked him to explain what happened after I got knocked out.

Apparently after I tackled Dowd, Hotch had reached for his spare gun that he kept around his ankle. I guess because his hands were still zip tied he had dropped it while trying to unclip it, and that had been the commotion that I had vaguely heard. Spencer told me that he had dove for it and had picked it up in time to look over and see Dowd about to shoot my prone form, so he had aimed for Dowd's leg and shot him in the head instead.

By the end of his explanation I was staring at him with a slack jaw. Not only had he shot someone, but his aim was simply god awful. Sometime during Spencer's retelling of events Hotch had wandered over to where the three of us were standing. I indicated to Derek and Spencer that I wanted to speak with Hotch alone and the boys got the silent message.

Before they walked away Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out the whistle that Derek had given him as a joke a couple days ago. He tossed it at Derek before walking away. I couldn't help the small laugh that came out, proud that Spencer had gotten him back somehow. Derek chuckled and moved to follow after him.

Hotch was the first to start speaking, "Morgan-"

"I'm glad you're okay boss man, but next time let me take the goddamned shot." I didn't want to hear anything about what was going through his head at the time, or why he felt like that was his only option. Because for me there was another option, one that would have minimized the injury count. I understood that he didn't want to take the risk in case I had missed, but all I had needed him to do was trust that I wouldn't.

Hotch laid a hand on my shoulder, his eyes softening upon seeing the gash at my hairline. He squeezed my shoulder once and nodded, "I'm glad you're okay too." Hotch wasn't really one for emotional moments, so he left it at that and followed in the direction that Derek and Spencer had gone to.

I looked around me, taking note of all the cops cars and ambulances, and wondered if my life would always include those blindingly bright blue and red lights.

* * *

At first Spencer had been fine, but every single one of us knew that there would be a moment where this whole thing would sink in and he would truly understand that he had killed someone. It just came a little earlier than we were expecting.

And later that night when Spencer called me, gasping for air through tears, all I could do was reassure him that he did what he had to do. Reassure him that he wasn't a murderer and that the sick feeling in his bones would fade one day.

We talked until he drifted off, his soft snores echoing through the receiver. I laid awake that night, never closing my eyes in fear that Spencer would wake again and need me again.

I cursed the world for yet again claiming an innocence that it had no right to take.


End file.
